


Three's Company

by Pearson



Category: TWICE (Band)
Genre: All the hunger games warnings apply, Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, F/F, mature themes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:47:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 62,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22441318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pearson/pseuds/Pearson
Summary: There can only be one Victor of the Hunger Games.Dahyun and Tzuyu are determined to make Chaeyoung this year's champion.
Relationships: Chou Tzuyu/Kim Dahyun/Son Chaeyoung, Im Nayeon/Park Jisoo | Jihyo
Comments: 181
Kudos: 222





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Big big thank you to Lynn @Slicki for betaing this and keeping me on track.
> 
> I said to myself I wouldn't have any more fics unfinished and I mean it! While I fully intend to finish all my current fics, I'm going to get this one complete first.

When Tzuyu got chosen for the Reaping, everyone in District 8 was relieved.

She didn’t blame them, or feel bitter about it. They were all just happy that their loved ones weren’t being sent to the slaughter. No one felt _good_ about the fact that a 14-year-old orphan with no friends was going to compete in the games, but well… It could have been worse. It could have been someone they loved, instead of someone they felt vaguely sorry for.

The boy wasn’t so lucky. He had a large family who cried when he was chosen. All the boys in the crowd his age looked quite sad too, so Tzuyu assumed he was popular. When they were escorted into the Justice Building, Tzuyu sat alone in her room, waiting to be called to the train. She could hear the boy’s mother wailing next door, and it suddenly made her very glad that she had no one here who cared for her. She wouldn’t be able to stomach the guilt of it all, hearing the boy (Minho, his name was Minho. She should probably remember that.) promise his parents that he would make it home. Neither of them had a chance, and Tzuyu had a feeling they were both aware of this.

It was a small mercy, that when she died, she wouldn’t be leaving grief-stricken family behind in her wake.

She didn’t mention his red eyes as they both boarded the train to the Capitol. Their mentor was fast asleep, a needle lying next to her. Their escort smiled through thin lips, and Tzuyu hated the look in his eyes. She was well used to being appraised and deemed irrelevant, but that was by her fellow District 8 citizens. This man was Capitol, and something inside her grated at his judgement.

Their mentor woke up five hours into the train ride. Tzuyu watched as she immediately fumbled for the needle, looking disappointed to see it was empty. Right at the start of the journey, Minho had allowed the escort to show him around the train, and he had yet to return. But Tzuyu had refused politely, and sat by her mentor’s side for the duration of the journey. Judging by the confused, clouded look in the woman’s eyes, this wasn’t the norm.

“Who are you?” she mumbled.

“Tzuyu. I’m the tribute for this year’s games.”

“Oh.” The woman suddenly looked very sad, wrinkles on her face growing more pronounced. “I’m so sorry.”

“Thank you.” Tzuyu wasn’t sure what else to say in response to that.

The rest of the journey passed in silence.

* * *

Dahyun knew she was an underdog. No one expected the girl from District 12 to go very far. Hell, she didn’t expect to go very far either. But she needed something to keep her moving forward, and so she clung to the small tendril of hope inside her. The one saying that despite the fact that her mentor and escort both thought she was hopeless, despite the fact that her father had actually apologized to her in the Justice Building, despite the fact that no one else in the world believed she would make it back home, Dahyun could do it. They all underestimated her, and she could use that to her advantage.

Killing other people was not something she was certain she could do, but she supposed she’d find out one way or another if she was capable of it when the games began. But even with that uncertainty, Dahyun had a plan semi formed by the time she reached the Capitol. One thing she was very good at was hiding. Years of living with an alcoholic father who blamed her for the death of her mother would do that to a girl. Dahyun could scale a tree without a single sound, could creep through a house without making a single floorboard creak. If she used that to her advantage, she had a chance.

She had to have a chance. She had to believe.

The first thing Dahyun did to prepare was request any information available on the other tributes. Her father had taught her the importance of knowing your enemy. A single clench of his jaw and Dahyun knew to run. If he was sitting down with a bottle it was probably safe for her to enter the house. The information seemed harmless, irrelevant, but it kept Dahyun alive this far. The setting was different, but the tactics were sound.

The majority of the tributes were around what Dahyun expected. The male careers were all very strong and very confident. Two of the female careers, Momo from District 2 and Sana from District 4 were similar. They looked happy to volunteer, and Dahyun couldn't tell if they were bluffing or not. It didn't matter. Either way, they were a threat.

But they were a threat she had anticipated. The other female career, Son Chaeyoung from District 1, she was different. Only 14, she clearly hadn't been expecting to be chosen in the Reaping. The older girls seemed disappointed that she had been chosen over them, and male tribute looked embarrassed to be on stage with her as she trembled and tried to keep a straight face.

She was a wildcard. A potential ally? Dahyun couldn't tell. But she clearly did not fit the standard career mold, which meant Dahyun would need to be extra careful when keeping an eye out for her in the games. The careers travelled in a pack, one noisy enough that Dahyun would surely hear them coming. A lone career was something else, another variable to be accounted for.

None of the other tributes stood out to Dahyun, until she reached the tape for District 8. The boy was the same as the three before him, pale and shaking, slowly adjusting to the death sentence he'd been given. The girl was much calmer. Not happy, or confident, but… unaffected. If it was a bluff, Dahyun couldn't tell. The girl, Chou Tzuyu, had a face like a beautiful statue. Dahyun couldn't read a single one of her emotions.

Unlike Chaeyoung, there was no reason for Dahyun to single her out. Her beauty might get her some sponsors, but she was a young trainee from a district that rarely won, which lowered sponsor interest. The lack of emotions could easily be chalked up to trauma. But Dahyun’s gut told her something different, told her that _this_ tribute was special. And Dahyun trusted her gut. Her instincts were really all she had going for her.

Her mentor knocked on the door of her carriage, an odd look on his face when he noticed what she was doing.

“We’re here.” he said.

Dahyun nodded, pressing pause on the video. The only one left was her own reaping, and she didn’t need to see that again. It felt like right now she was running on an energy that was almost manic, and very, very fragile. Maybe it showed, because her mentor wouldn’t stop giving her that look.

“What?” she asked.

“Nothing.” he shook his head. “It’s just… good to see that you’re serious about winning.”

Huh.

“What else would I be doing?” Dahyun frowned.

“Well your partner cried for the first two hours of the journey, and then he ate until he threw up, drank all the wine he could find, and fell asleep.”

“Well that sounds stupid.”

“Oh, it is.” Her mentor agreed easily. “It’s also a very common reaction to being chosen as tribute. Yours, not so much.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“It could be.” His smile turned grim. “Or it could make things even more painful for me when you die.”

There was no good response to that. So Dahyun merely rolled her eyes and walked out of the carriage, already practicing her smile for the spectators.

If curling up and agreeing to die was normal, then she was happy to break the mold.

* * *

“Smile.” Her escort hissed, poking Chaeyoung in the back.

Chaeyoung didn’t smile. If her partner wanted to smile and act the part of a well-trained Capitol lapdog, that was their choice. But Chaeyoung knew that she wasn’t in the games to bring honour to her district. Her brother had angered the Capitol by speaking up against their oppression, and Chaeyoung was not foolish enough to believe the coincidence that her name got picked out of thousands, many of whom put their name in there multiple times in hopes of being picked.

The whole thing made her sick. She’d always pitied her classmates for buying into the propaganda they were taught. None of them were lucky enough to have Chaeyoung’s parents, who raised their children to be wary of the Capitol, but not to lick their boots either.

Although today she wasn’t feeling very lucky. Or very charitable towards her fellow citizens, who’d glared at her for crying but hadn’t dared step up and volunteer. Even if half those children were eager to fling themselves headfirst into the massacre that was the Games, they had enough sense not to interfere with what was clearly a punishment from the higher ups. Her brother looked agonized, and Chaeyoung knew he would have volunteered in a heartbeat if they were both boys. She hoped he didn’t blame himself, but knew that he probably would. What he’d said about the Capitol killing workers who protested for better wages was true, but Chaeyoung couldn’t help but wish he’d been more discreet about saying it. Someone had clearly ratted him out, and now she had to pay the price.

The only slightly bright side to this whole thing was her mentor. The male mentor had given her a disgusted look, and immediately latched on to her fellow tribute. But the other mentor, Nayeon, had been kind so far. Chaeyoung wasn’t sure if she liked her or not, but she didn’t tell Chaeyoung to smile, or feed her some bullshit about this being a marvelous honour. She just sat with Chaeyoung, and let her process everything.

Once they were away from prying eyes, her escort dropped the fake smile she’d been wearing and proceeded to berate Chaeyoung for her behavior, calling her an idiot and claiming that she didn’t want them to have any sponsors. Chaeyoung scoffed, refusing to feel sorry for keeping her last remaining shreds of dignity.

“Oh shut up Cauliflower.” Chaeyoung’s head jerked up as Nayeon snapped. “She made herself stand out from the rest of the careers this year. That’s not something to criticize her for.”

“My name is Kalifuore. You _know_ this, we’ve worked with each other for years now!”

“And what a great help you’ve been.” Nayeon said, sarcasm mixing with bitterness.

Chaeyoung decided that she liked her mentor.

Nayeon took Chaeyoung’s arm and led her away from the fuming escort. Once they were alone in Chaeyoung’s room, she seemed to relax a little, the bored expression she’d worn since they arrived replaced by something softer, like the caring look she’d given Chaeyoung when she first got on the train.

“Don’t worry about her, or any of them. I’ll handle them all and get you the sponsors you need. Just focus on staying alive and winning.”

“How do I do that?” Chaeyoung didn’t mean to sound so defeated, but she couldn’t deny it was how she felt. “The other careers aren’t going to want to ally with me. They’ll hunt me down first just to be sure I won’t pose a threat to them. What chance do I have?”

“None if you won’t make an effort.” Nayeon narrowed her eyes, and sat down next to her on the bed. “But if you want to go home, if you want to see your family again, then you’re going to have to fight for it. And I don’t just mean in the games. You’re going to have to find other allies, you’re going to have to plan, and you’re going to have to try and appease the Gamemakers.”

“Fuck the Gamemakers.”

Nayeon smiled at that, and Chaeyoung was suddenly very relieved that her mentor wasn’t the douchebag male victor. Nayeon seemed smart, smart enough to understand why Chaeyoung wouldn’t buy into any of the Capitol bullshit.

She remembered watching Nayeon volunteer two years ago. Back then she’d swaggered up onto the stage, with all the confidence of a career who’d been born and raised for the Games. Chaeyoung hadn’t payed attention to the games at all that year, but she knew that the Nayeon who survived the arena had been very different to the Nayeon that went in. Quieter, angrier, with wisdom in her eyes that spoke of pain and disillusionment.

Chaeyoung was curious what she’d gone through, but she didn’t dare ask. Nayeon was the only ally she had right now, and she didn’t want to ruin that.

“Fuck the Gamemakers.” Nayeon agreed. “But unfortunately, they’re the ones who control if you live or die. Your anger doesn’t hurt them, and it won’t make a difference unless you win. _Then_ you can start thinking about rebellion.”

Rebellion?

“What do you-”

“We’re almost out of time.” Nayeon reached into her pocket, taking out a square black device Chaeyoung hadn’t noticed. “From now on assume every room you enter is bugged, and act accordingly. Even this one. Understand?”

Chaeyoung nodded, baffled at the abrupt turn this conversation had taken.

“Good girl.” Nayeon stood up, leaning down to kiss Chaeyoung’s forehead. “Tonight, we’ll meet up with the boys and discuss strengths and weaknesses. Tomorrow you’ll get primped up for the parade around the Ring. Do your best to appeal to those in charge, or at least don’t get yourself branded as a threat that needs to be eliminated as soon as possible. If you can’t play nice, just focus on training for the Games.”

She walked out of the room, leaving Chaeyoung with more questions and no answers.

* * *

The girl from District 1 was very attractive.

Her short black hair contrasted beautifully with the golden robes her stylist had dressed her in, and the sparkly eyeliner could have looked tacky on anyone else, but with her unique cat-like eyes she made it work, looking far more elegant and regal than the boy next to her on the chariot.

Or at least, that was Tzuyu’s opinion. She knew she was biased towards girls, but she felt like she was being objective here. Son Chaeyoung was very pretty. And also very likely to be the one who would kill Tzuyu once they stepped foot in the arena.

Honestly, if Tzuyu had to die at the hands of a career tribute, Son Chaeyoung was probably the one she would choose. Momo and Sana were both beautiful as well, but they looked far too smug and eager as they rode around the ring next to their partners. Chaeyoung just looked angry and cold. Tzuyu would prefer a girl like that to be the one to kill her, rather than a girl who would most likely enjoy it.

Minho’s hand was sweaty. Tzuyu felt very uncomfortable as their chariot slowly moved towards the doors. Her stylist had told her that she didn’t need to smile, that she just needed to stand there and glare, and let her dress do the talking. That suited Tzuyu just fine, but she did wish that she didn’t need to hold hands with her partner.

“I have something to tell you.” Minho said, as the cheers from the spectators slowly grew louder. “When the Games begin, I don’t want to team up. I know you, and I can’t be the one to kill you in the end.”

Tzuyu wondered if she should point out that there was only a tiny chance they would end up being the last two standing. But when she thought about it, she realised that she didn’t want to be partnered with Minho either. He wasn’t strong, or fast, or good with weapons, or level-headed. While going over skills with their mentor yesterday, the best he’d been able to come up with was “ _I test well.”_

Maybe she was being too dismissive, but Tzuyu didn’t see how a good grade in maths or geography would help her when it came to surviving the arena.

She realised he was waiting for a reply, and leaned over so that he could hear her.

“That’s fine.” she said. “Good luck.”

He looked surprised at her calm acceptance, but the roar of the crowd as their chariot was wheeled out into the Ring drowned out any response he might have given her.

* * *

If there was one thing Dahyun learnt from watching the career tributes train (other than the fact that she was hopelessly outclassed), it was that she really, _really_ needed allies. Five teenagers, all older and stronger than her, would be hunting the rest of the tributes down and picking them off one by one. Dahyun could run, and she could hide, but if they managed to kill everyone else then the only hope she had would be if they all tripped and fell into a pit of spikes or something. And she didn’t like betting her survival on the chance of a freak accident occurring.

No one paid her much attention as she climbed the rope net on the left wall of the training room. Everyone was busy at their respective stations, and the trainer had given up pushing Dahyun to move and do something when she kept staring up at the ceiling.

The ceiling was layered with thick ropes. Once Dahyun reached the top of the left wall, it was easy to swing herself up into the horizontal rope net. From there she had the perfect vantage point to look at the whole room, and not a single soul noticed the girl hovering above them. It boosted her confidence a tiny bit.

Dahyun’s eyes were first drawn to Chou Tzuyu. Even just hovering around the knot tying station with her district partner, her height, her poise and her beauty made her stand out. Dahyun watched her for a minute or so, but when she just kept practicing knots Dahyun turned her attention to the careers.

The boy from District 1 had a wooden mace in hand, but he was clearly losing to the District 2 girl Momo, who seemed very skilled with the wooden axe she was wielding. Sparring with lethal weapons was forbidden, but it wasn't hard for Dahyun to picture a real axe burying itself in the back of a tribute, and she felt sick.

The boy growled when Momo knocked the mace out of his hand. But his glare quickly turned into a smirk when he noticed the girl walking by.

“Hey Chaeyoung! Want to train with us?”

Now this was interesting. Dahyun wiggled between the ropes so she could see Chaeyoung better. The young girl wore a neutral, almost bored expression. Dahyun didn't expect her to take him up on the challenge, but surprisingly Chaeyoung just shrugged and grabbed a wooden sword from the weapons rack.

“Which one of you am I fighting?”

“How about all of us?”

Dahyun gripped the rope tighter as the other two boys and Sana surrounded Chaeyoung. The trainers wouldn't let them kill her, but they could certainly get away with roughing her up.

“I heard that you think you're better than us.” Sana's voice was light and teasing, but her eyes were hard. “That we're just Capitol sheep lining up for the slaughter, and you're the only enlightened one smart enough to not want to be here.”

“I never said that.”

“No.” Chaeyoung's fellow District 1 tribute moved closer. “But that's obviously what you think. You can be as arrogant as you like Son, but the reality is you're stuck here with the rest of us sheep.”

He moved quickly, so quick that Dahyun barely saw his strike. One second they were all standing calmly, the next Chaeyoung was spinning and blocking. Dahyun's mouth dropped open as she watched her move, fending off attacks from maces, axes, sticks, every weapon the careers were using, all with her single sword. She dodged and weaved around them, keeping her sword as free as she could to block when needed. At one point the District 2 boy thought he'd got her, so he swung too hard with his axe and stumbled as she easily ducked out of his way. She tripped him, kicking him into Sana as he fell. The remaining three tributes circled her warily, but before they could start attacking again the trainer let out a sharp whistle, and they quickly dropped their weapons.

Only then did Dahyun realise that she'd been clenching the ropes too tightly. She loosened her grip and wiggled around a bit to keep the circulation flowing, her eyes still on Chaeyoung. The District 1 girl was breathing heavily, but the only mark on her was a thin cut across her cheek. She stood tall, glaring down at her fellow career tributes.

“My family may not have wanted me to participate in the Games, but they weren't foolish enough not to train me in case my name was called.” She threw her sword on the ground, and Dahyun swore the whole room heard the thump as it fell. “See you in the arena.”

She walked away then, and Dahyun knew that now was her chance. Chaeyoung clearly wasn't going to ally with the careers, and she had the talent with combat skills that Dahyun sorely lacked.

Slowly and carefully she made her way across the ceiling. Chaeyoung had moved over to the plant identifying station, and Dahyun waited patiently until everyone had stopped staring at her before carefully swinging her upper half down, using her legs to keep herself hanging from the ceiling.

Slowly, she reached out and tapped Chaeyoung on the shoulder.

Chaeyoung spun around, fists clenched and ready to fight. Dahyun just smiled cheerfully, hoping to look as non-threatening yet interesting as possible.

“Hi!” she chirped. “I'm Kim Dahyun, from District 12. I was wondering if you were interested in teaming up?”

The confused look in Chaeyoung’s eyes vanished, and Dahyun gulped at the hard glare that replaced it.

“Just because I'm not teaming up with the careers doesn't mean I'm going to do charity and team up with you instead.” Chaeyoung brushed past her. “I'm not interested in killing anyone but I'm not particularly interested in saving everyone either.”

“I'm not talking about everyone!” Dahyun pulled herself up, then flipped onto the ground.” Just me!”

Chaeyoung was already gone. And she hadn't even seen Dahyun's flip either. Dahyun allowed herself to feel disappointed for a few seconds, and then she stuck her chin out and tried to decide her next move.

Keep trying with Chaeyoung and risk angering her? Or move on to someone else and risk looking desperate?

* * *

“So.” Nayeon grinned, handing Chaeyoung a plate of food. “I hear training was eventful today.”

“They started it.” Chaeyoung grumbled.

She was aware of how childish that sounded. But she _was_ a child, so she couldn't find it in her to feel bad about it.

“And you finished it. Good for you kid.” Nayeon took a handful of Chaeyoung's fries and popped one in her mouth, chewing slowly. “But you also turned down everyone else who tried to form an alliance with you. Not so sure if that was the right call.”

“I’m not allying with the careers.” Chaeyoung balled her hands into fists, remembering her partner's sneer. “But I'm not interested in protecting a bunch of scared kids who'll just stab me in the back if we all outlive the careers. I don't want to kill them, but I want to go home. Which means at the very least, I'll need to let them die.”

“That makes sense.” Nayeon hummed thoughtfully. “But you have to consider that the Gamemakers will be out to kill you. They can't be obvious about it, the viewers would hate it if they thought the Games were biased, but they'll try their best to stop you from making it home. Which means you need to find people with skills you don't have, so that you can help each other survive.”

What Nayeon was saying seemed wise, but Chaeyoung wasn't certain she didn't have an ulterior motive.

“I saw you with the District 3 mentor today.” Chaeyoung cringed. “Well actually, it's more like I _heard_ you. Moaning in the supply closet. What did she want from you?”

If Nayeon was surprised by Chaeyoung's accusation, she didn't show it. But her smile was gone, and she looked… cautious.

“Jihyo is a friend.”

“Ah yes casual friendly activity like fucking each other in supply closets. Of course.”

“Where else would we fuck?” There was no humour in Nayeon's voice.

“Is she why you're asking me to team up with people? Does she want me to help her District 3 girl?”

“Calm down hotshot.” Nayeon poked Chaeyoung hard in the forehead. “Not everything is about you. The career pack are still the most valuable allies to have if you want to survive. That's the team up Jihyo was trying to secure.”

“And did you agree?” Chaeyoung felt a dull ache at the thought of yet another challenge ahead of her.

“Of course not.” Nayeon snorted. “I'm mentoring you, not the boy. Why on earth would I make things harder for my tribute?”

“And she just accepted that?”

“We both understand how the Games are played.” Now Nayeon looked sad. “She'll ask Minseok tomorrow, and he's smart enough that he’ll probably agree.”

Privately Chaeyoung thought that the male mentor was going to have a hard time convincing her fellow District 1 tribute to accept the alliance. But she didn't bother saying that out loud. The important thing was that she could still trust Nayeon to be on her side.

And she did. But fraternizing with the enemy just didn't sit right with her.

“I still don't like that you're mixing business with pleasure.” she muttered.

She didn't expect Nayeon to have a strong reaction to that. Not when she'd been so calm about Chaeyoung calling her out less than two minutes ago. But to her surprise Nayeon's mouth twisted into a bitter grin, and the gleam in her eyes made a shiver run down Chaeyoung's spine for reasons she didn't understand.

“In the Capitol, they're one and the same. If you win the Games you'll learn that soon enough.”

Chaeyoung wondered what Nayeon meant by that. But the more she thought about it the more she realised that she didn't want to know.

Nayeon left the room then, and Chaeyoung curled up on the bed and tried not to think too hard about the nightmare ahead of her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: This chapter contains talk of forced prostitution. If that's not something you can read then please skip Nayeon's POV, which is the second half of this chapter.

Tzuyu's mentor was actually lucid at dinner time. Tzuyu expected it to be another awkward meal where she and Minho ate in silence, the escort tried to make small talk, and their mentor was passed out on the couch with empty morphine needles around her. But instead, their mentor stared calmly at them with bloodshot eyes, and asked them how their training was going.

It was the second conversation they'd had since reaching the Capitol, the first being a discussion on their various strengths that could help them survive. Tzuyu was advised to showcase her physical strength to the Gamemakers, and to work with the stylists so that her beauty could get her more sponsors. 

She didn't like that much, even though she understood the logic behind it. If she was to die in the Games, she didn't want to be remembered as just a pretty face. 

Of course, there wasn't a huge chance she'd be remembered at all. Their escort didn't really care about either of them, Minho would probably die before she did and as for her mentor…

Tzuyu's eyes strayed down to the morphine needles. At best she'd be remembered as just another child who her mentor failed. Another reason to shoot up and avoid the pain and guilt. 

“I'm getting good at identifying plants.” Minho barely made an effort to sound enthusiastic. “And I can tie a solid knot with a bunch of different materials. That's something, I guess.”

Her mentor looked at Tzuyu, and she just shrugged and nodded. Her training had been basically the same. 

“What about weapons?” Their mentor asked. “When I was in the arena I got my hands on a bow and arrow. Wouldn't have survived without it. Then, when there were only five of us left, I picked up a sword and fought to the death. One of the tributes left was a career, but I'd trained with her, and we'd even sparred together. If it wasn't for that, she would have slaughtered me.”

It was strange. Up until then it hadn't really registered with Tzuyu that this woman had won the Games. Tzuyu remembered watching the victory parade four years ago, but the mentor had been so much younger back then, younger than Tzuyu was now. Less gaunt, less wrinkled, sharper looking in general. 

Still, maybe the competence that had helped her survive hadn't been fully drained away by the drugs.

“What sort of weapons should I focus on?”

Both Minho and the escort stared at her, shocked that she'd spoken at all. But their mentor just frowned thoughtfully. 

“Try archery.” she said. “None of the careers this year specialise in it. They're all close combat fighters, expect for the District 4 girl who can use a spear. If you can get your hands on a bow, and you know how to use it, you'll have a better chance of taking them all out. But if you find you can't hit a single target, don't waste your time on it. Find something else, something you can use well, and make sure the Gamemakers know it.”

Now everyone was staring in surprise at the mentor. Even Tzuyu was somewhat taken aback by her detailed answer. 

“What?” Their mentor smirked tiredly. “The career mentors are happy to brag when they think the only other person in the room is passed out in a drug haze.”

For the first time, Tzuyu actually felt hopeful about the Games. This woman had somehow survived despite being younger and smaller at the time than Tzuyu was now. If she was smart and ruthless enough about it, Tzuyu could win. 

She wasn't worried about being smart enough. But the thought of cutting other children down still left her with a lump in her throat. 

Still, one problem at a time. For now she needed to learn if she has the skill to cut them down. Whether or not she has the stomach for it could wait. 

The next morning, Tzuyu headed straight for the archery station. Minho followed after a few seconds, grabbing a bow and lining up next to her. 

Tzuyu had never shot an arrow before, but her grip felt surprisingly steady. She drew back the bow, aimed, and fired. 

The arrow hit the target. Not a perfect headshot, but good enough. She heard a twang from beside her and saw another arrow fly towards the target. But Minho’s shot missed, as did the next ten arrows he shot. 

Tzuyu hit the target every time. 

She wanted to feel bad when he left, defeated, to look at other weapons. But she just felt glad. Glad she was apparently a natural talent at archery, according to the trainer. And glad he wasn't, so that they wouldn't be fighting over the bow in the arena. 

Tzuyu gripped the bow and took aim again. She had five days to improve her skills. 

For once, it felt like she had enough time left before the slaughter began. 

* * *

Dahyun knew that time was short. If she couldn't convince Chaeyoung to team up with her today, then she had to let it go and try to find someone else. 

She waited until Chaeyoung went over to the sparring station, stifling a laugh at how the career tributes slowly backed away. It seemed like none of them were interested in a repeat of yesterday, which made sense. But it left Chaeyoung without a sparring partner. 

Which was why Dahyun stepped up to the plate, sending Chaeyoung the same friendly smile as yesterday. Chaeyoung just rolled her eyes, but she jabbed her sword at the weapons rack, indicating for Dahyun to choose one. 

Dahyun wasn't good with weapons. Had no clue how to even handle one. So she picked a tiny wooden dagger and then promptly stuck it in her pocket. 

Chaeyoung looked baffled, but she simply shrugged, and swung her wooden sword at Dahyun. 

Dahyun dodged the strike easily. Chaeyoung didn't seem impressed, but her eyes started getting wider as Dahyun dodged the next five strikes calmly. 

Then her eyes narrowed, and she started focusing her slashes carefully, trying to pin Dahyun down so she could hit her with a backslash. But Dahyun was well used to the tactic, even though it was usually fists or bottles being swung at her. Chaeyoung was nowhere near as big as her father, nor was the sparring plate as cramped as her home in District 12. She ducked, dodged, skipped, and even slid between Chaeyoung's legs at one point just to show off. 

After ten minutes of trying and failing to land a single hit on Dahyun, Chaeyoung reluctantly put her sword down. Dahyun relaxed, enjoying the look of grudging respect on the dark haired girl's face. 

“You have my attention.” Chaeyoung said. 

Dahyun grinned. 

“How good are you at climbing and sneaking?”

“Not very.” There was a spark of genuine curiosity in Chaeyoung’s eyes. 

“Well how about I show you what I can do.” Dahyun gestured to the obstacle course set up at the climbing station. “And if you think it could be useful to have me as an ally, even just until we get our bearings in the arena, we'll team up.”

Chaeyoung still didn't look convinced, but she gestured for Dahyun to lead the way. 

There was a boy currently doing the obstacle course. From District 10, if Dahyun was remembering correctly. He looked strong and healthy, but he only made it halfway across the course before he lost his grip and fell to the ground. 

Dahyun took a hold of the first set of monkey bars. She glanced behind her to ensure Chaeyoung was watching, then sent her a wink when their eyes met. 

Chaeyoung frowned, but she didn't seem angry. Just confused. 

Dahyun could work with that. 

* * *

“So I was thinking.” Dahyun stuffed another bite of salmon in her mouth, and continued talking through the food. “You're a badass with a sword and all, but it's still one of you against five careers. I can help you hide from them and spy on them, but if it's a brawl I won't be able to do much.”

Chaeyoung took a bite of her own food. She'd learnt quickly that her new partner liked to talk, and the best strategy when you didn't want to listen was to let her babble away until she ran out of steam. 

Chaeyoung couldn't tell if the chipper attitude was an act, or if the girl just didn't care about the grim reality they were about to face. She'd taken Chaeyoung's agreement to an alliance as a sign of friendship, and was quite happy to laugh and joke with Chaeyoung as if one of them wouldn't be dead within two weeks. 

It had to be an act. But it was a strange one. 

“So if we need more manpower to stand a chance against the careers, I say we should go for Chou Tzuyu.”

“Who?” Chaeyoung finally looked up from her salad. 

“The girl from District 8. I'm pretty sure the archery trainer is in love with her, keeps calling her a natural talent.”

“Does that mean she's good?”

“I've been watching her, and from what I've seen she hasn't missed a single target.”

“Hm.” Chaeyoung stirred her food with her fork. “Well that does put her above the rest of the tributes. If we had to team up with someone else she sounds like the best option.”

“Great!” Dahyun beamed. “Then let's go over and ask her right now!”

“What?” Chaeyoung jumped up as Dahyun scraped her chair back and headed across the canteen. “Wait, hold on!”

Dahyun didn't stop, ignoring all the curious eyes on her until she reached the table where Tzuyu was sitting alone. Chaeyoung caught up with her just as she began to speak. 

“Hi!” Dahyun said brightly “I'm Kim Dahyun from District 12 and this is Son Chaeyoung from District 1. We want to form an alliance with you, so that we all have a better chance at surviving the Games. I've got great survival skills, and Chaeyoung here… Well I'm sure you've seen what she can do. So what do you say? Want to help each other out?”

Tzuyu sat back, eyeing them both calmly as she nibbled on a carrot stick. Chaeyoung had heard people talk about how pretty the District 8 girl was, but to Chaeyoung she seemed cute. Cute, and far too young for this, despite her height. 

“I saw you fight.” she nodded at Chaeyoung. “You're good. I'd be happy to ally with you.”

She turned to stare at Dahyun, who's smile never faltered. 

“I haven't seen anything impressive about you yet.”

Dahyun’s smile got just the tiniest bit tighter. Chaeyoung was curious what she would do next. So far, the District 12 girl had been totally unpredictable. 

Dahyun leant over, lowering her voice so that only Chaeyoung and Tzuyu could hear her. 

“There are ten cameras in this room. Three are currently focused on us. Seven of the cameras are fixed, ensuring that there are no blindspots in the canteen. The other three change focus depending on what interests the Gamemakers. There's only one single point in the room where they can't see you, but if I say it out loud I'm certain it will be gone by tomorrow. Also, the girl from District 2 thinks you're cute, which made the girl from District 4 sulky, I assume because she likes her.”

Dahyun leant back, still with that easy smile on her face. Tzuyu's own face was solemn, and both were completely unreadable to Chaeyoung. 

“OK.” Tzuyu said. “I'm still not convinced you'll be useful to me in the Games, but your friend will, and I like you. So I'm in.”

Chaeyoung was tempted to deny the idea that she and Dahyun were friends. But it didn't feel like the best way to start off their alliance. 

She still wasn't enthusiastic about the whole idea. Dahyun and Tzuyu had a lot of potential, but teaming up meant that somewhere along the line, she'd either fail them or kill them. 

For a moment she wished she could be more like the other careers. So detached from their own brutality that they wouldn't hesitate to kill their own partners once it became convenient for them. 

Because despite her best efforts, looking at Tzuyu's shy smile and Dahyun's genuine grin, she could already feel herself starting to get attached. 

* * *

When Nayeon entered the room, she wasn't surprised to see a morphine needle on the ground. Disappointed yes, but not surprised. 

“Nayeon.” The District 8 mentor gave her a faint smile. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Don't tell me you don't know.” Nayeon scoffed. “Your girl has formed an alliance with mine. I already spoke to Haymitch and he's on board, said something about his girl having good instincts. That just leaves you.”

“An alliance sounds great.” The woman shrugged. “Go for it. Whatever you need I'll help.”

“What I  _ need _ ,” Nayeon strode across the room, plucking another needle out of the woman's hand. “Is for you to get your shit together Chungha. You can't drug yourself for the whole Games this year, not when my kid is tied to yours. I understand what you're going through-”

“You don't.” Chungha's voice was hard. “We both fell in love with a tribute, I know that. But your lover, the District 10 girl-”

“Jeongyeon.” As always, the name tasted bitter on Nayeon's tongue. “Her name was Jeongyeon.”

“Jeongyeon let herself die so that you could win.” It was true, but hearing Chungha say the words out loud made Nayeon feel cold. ”I remember that year. I wanted to hate you because you killed one of my tributes, but I couldn't. You went into the arena a big bad career and by the time it was just the two of you left, you looked so utterly heartbroken when she showed you her infected leg that I thought you would try and kill yourself right there and then.”

Nayeon clenched her fists, pushing back the memories that threatened to overwhelm her. She couldn't give into them. Not now, not yet. 

“And I remember four years ago, watching you enter the arena and fall for the District 1 tribute.” Nayeon replied, trying to keep her voice from wavering. “And I saw you go through hell together until you were the last two standing, and then I saw the exact same agony on your face watching her die as I would feel two years later. So explain to me, how do I not understand the desire to inject yourself with enough morphine that you no longer feel the guilt of being alive?”

“Because Jeongyeon died for you.” Chungha snapped. “She saw that it was the two of you left, saw that you didn't want to kill her, and gave you the easy way out to win. But the second it was just the two of us remaining, Sejeong didn't hesitate to try and chop my head off. I loved her, and she forced me to kill her.”

Nayeon refused to feel guilty about that. She remembered rooting for Sejeong to do everything it took to win, and if she'd won the final duel Nayeon would be telling her today that it was OK, that killing Chungha had been a necessary evil in order to survive. 

But Chungha had won that final fight. And now Nayeon had to deal with her self pity and bitterness. It was understandable, and Nayeon didn't blame her, but she just didn't have  _ time  _ for it. 

“Alright, so we didn't experience the exact same trauma. So what?” Nayeon threw the needle on the ground, crushing it beneath her heel. “I still need you to do more than beg for morphine this year. You can fail your tributes every other year, but this time I need you sharp and sober.”

“I'm handling my tributes fine.”

“Oh yes.” Nayeon deliberately let her eyes roam over the needle holes in Chungha's arms. “I'm sure they feel very reassured to have you watching over them.”

“Fuck you Nayeon.” Chungha almost sounded angry, beneath all the tiredness. 

“Been there done that.” Nayeon smirked. “Don't need a repeat performance.”

Chungha blinked blankly, but then the joke hit her and she frowned. 

“Agreed.” she grumbled. “That was the threesome with the old man wasn't it? He just sat there and ordered us around. My least favourite kind of client.”

“For me the worst is when they whore me out to the ones who want to physically dominate me. The ones eager to put the District 1 bitch in her place.” Nayeon rolled her eyes. “If I never again get choked and smacked around during sex, it'll be too soon.”

Chungha’s eyes were suddenly far too sympathetic, and Nayeon regretted saying anything. 

“Anyway.” she tried to brush past the moment. “My point is that you're going to do everything necessary to help your girl out. I don't give a shit about the boy, but until either your girl dies or mine does I'm going to be pushing you everyday to get sponsors for her. Got it?”

Chungha nodded sullenly. Nayeon felt a sudden wave of sympathy for her, but she crushed it down like she did every other emotion that made her vulnerable. There would be time to be soft once the Games were over and she was back home, hopefully with Chaeyoung by her side. 

She turned and left, hitting the elevator to take her to the third floor. 

The ride from the eighth floor to the third floor was long enough that Nayeon had time to compose herself. It was ironic in a way, because she was going to see the one person she could let herself be vulnerable around, and yet here she was trying her best to push it all down. It was either sadness or pleasure, never enough hours together for both. 

And today Nayeon wanted pleasure. 

Jihyo was waiting for her as soon as the doors opened. They both knew the importance of being punctual when they had so little time to spare. 

“Avox bathroom. We've got twenty minutes.”

As soon as Jihyo locked the bathroom door behind her Nayeon was on her, pressing her against the sink and trailing kisses down her neck. Jihyo moaned, threading her fingers through Nayeon's hair to pull her closer. Nayeon straightened up to capture Jihyo's mouth in a searing kiss, savouring the simplicity of the action. She loved Jihyo and Jihyo loved her. In this moment, there were no complications. 

When Jihyo kissed her, Nayeon could forget about the Games, forget about the clients she had lined up, forget about the Capitol monitoring their every action. And when she moved down, opening Jihyo's shirt and kissing a line down her torso, she could almost forget about Jeongyeon too. 

(Almost.)

This was pure, it was straightforward. It was something the Capitol couldn't taint. 

However, there were still complications. 

She was halfway through unbuttoning Jihyo's pants when she felt the first droplet land on her head. Immediately she stopped, standing up and placing her hands on Jihyo's shoulders. 

“You alright?”

Jihyo nodded, but with her tears and her shaking it wasn't convincing in the slightest. Nayeon pulled her into a hug, letting Jihyo sob into her chest, ignoring the uncomfortable dampness it gave her shirt. 

“I'm sorry.” Jihyo sniffled. “I’m… I'm sorry.”

“Its fine.” Nayeon whispered, and she meant it. 

Last year Jihyo had snuck into her bedroom for a quickie, and instead found Nayeon a distraught mess after a client forced her to sing to him. He'd been a big fan, told her he cried watching her sing to Jeongyeon as she died, and then made her repeat the whole song to him before fucking her. 

Nayeon loathed her fans. 

Jihyo hadn't hesitated to cradle Nayeon in her arms, holding her the whole night long. It had been a big risk to take, and Nayeon couldn't put into words how grateful she was to have Jihyo as a… Friend? Fuckbuddy? Chaeyoung had said one and Nayeon had said the other, but the truth lay somewhere between the two. 

Either way, it would be hypocritical of Nayeon to get annoyed at Jihyo now. She may have come for pleasure, but sometimes sadness just couldn't be controlled. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” She rubbed Jihyo's back soothingly as Jihyo's sobbing slowly quietened. 

“I just… can't stop thinking about her today.” Jihyo sounded so small, so weary, Nayeon felt a surge of hatred towards the Capitol, stronger than usual. “I don't know why, I haven't even seen her in months.”

“Her?”

“My Jeongyeon.”

Nayeon stiffened. She'd always known that Jihyo had someone in her past, some reason to seek Nayeon out the way Nayeon did her. But she'd never talked about it before, and Nayeon respected that. 

“She alive?”

“Yeah.” Jihyo nodded, a sad smile on her face. “Her name is Sooyoung. She was my best friend growing up, and then my first and only girlfriend. Getting home to her was the main thought that kept me going during my Games.”

Nayeon remembered Jihyo's Games. It was one of the years where the Gamemakers focused on endurance, and the whole arena had been frozen. The careers didn't kill everyone fast enough, and died quickly from the cold and lack of food. Jihyo’s District 3 expertise had helped her tough it out, converting every appliance she could find into a source of heat. But even so, she'd lost the top of one ear to frostbite. 

“I got home and for a while I thought things would be good. She was so understanding about it all, the trauma, the people I had to kill. I really thought we would work, that I could be happy.”

“What happened?” Nayeon asked gently. 

She wasn't sure she wanted to know. But Jihyo always listened to her about Jeongyeon, and she deserved the same courtesy. 

“A year passed, time for the Games again. When I reached the Capitol I thought I would just be a mentor, but you know how it goes. President Snow called me into his office, said he had people eager to meet me, who'd pay good money for a night. I said no, he laughed, and well…”

“Threatened everyone you loved?”

“Yeah.” Jihyo sighed. “So I went home that year with two dead tributes and a sick feeling in my stomach. Sooyoung asked me what was wrong, I told her everything, and then-”

Jihyo shuddered so violently that Nayeon pulled her back into her arms. 

“She thinks I'm disgusting.” Jihyo choked out. “She told me that she never wanted to see me again, that she couldn't look at me and pretend she loved me while I was whoring myself out every year. I'm filthy Nayeon, I'm a dirty-” 

“You're not.” Nayeon's voice was firm and hard. “You're- Look at me Jihyo. You're not filthy, or disgusting, or anything like that. The Capitol are the depraved ones for making us do this. You're a survivor, you're  _ strong.  _ Stronger than she could ever understand.”

Nayeon's words sounded as hollow as the smile Jihyo gave her. Still, she refused to let go of Jihyo's shoulders until Jihyo had stopped trembling. 

“Thank you.” Jihyo said softly. “I'm sorry again. I've wasted all our time.”

“It's fine.” Nayeon insisted. “We'll find another moment. Maybe.”

Considering how many sponsor meetings and clients they had lined up, the chance of that happening was rare. Nayeon felt a cold tendril of dread in her heart at the thought of lasting another year on the two meetings they had so far. 

Nayeon wanted Chaeyoung to win for multiple reasons, and the fact that a Victory Tour would mean she got to visit Jihyo before the next Games was absolutely one of them. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: Tzuyu and Dahyun meet Nayeon and talk strategy


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Training continues. Dahyun does her best to keep morale up, Chaeyoung still doesn't know what to make of her new allies, and Tzuyu is just happy to have friends.

The District 1 mentor was not what Tzuyu had expected. She'd been prepared for a sneering career who saw her and Dahyun as a waste of time, or just someone who would ignore them completely. But the first thing Nayeon did the next morning was summon all three girls for a meeting. 

“The boys have already gone down to train.” she informed them. “And I'll let you go too in a minute. But first, I want to hear some strategies.”

Tzuyu looked to Dahyun. Dahyun glanced at Chaeyoung, who stared back. Dahyun sighed. 

“Well Chaeyoung can fight with a sword, Tzuyu is good with a bow and arrow, and I'm good at being sneaky. So-” 

“Not in the arena.” Nayeon interrupted. “I mean before you go in. Interviews, Gamemaker evaluation, training in general. How are you going to get the public on your side?”

“Oh.” Dahyun frowned. “Well I was planning on keeping a low profile, not letting the other tributes see more of my skills then they need to. Then for the evaluation I'd show them everything I got. Being from District 12, I'm hopeful for at least a 6 or 7.”

“What about the interview?” Nayeon's gaze was sharp and focused, and Tzuyu watched Dahyun squirm a little under it. 

“No real plans other than to try and charm the crowd as best I can.”

“We'll work on that.” Nayeon snapped her fingers. “Chaeyoung. Go.”

“Same as Dahyun for the training. Going to try and improve my survival skills since I already know how to fight. I'm not hopeful about the evaluation though. Even if I do a triple backflip with my sword in my hand, they want me dead.”

“Don't give up hope.” Now Nayeon almost sounded gentle. “They might go the opposite direction and give you a high score to place a target on your back. There are options. None of them are great, but they're still options.” 

Chaeyoung didn't look reassured. Tzuyu wanted to say something comforting, but there was clearly context she was missing to this conversation. 

“As for your interview,” Nayeon continued. “They'll probably ask about why no one volunteered for you. So we'll work on a cover story, something about everyone knowing how eager you were to participate.”

Tzuyu watched as Chaeyoung's jaw clenched, but she gave a stiff nod instead of arguing. 

“What about you, District 8?” Now all eyes were on Tzuyu. “What's your plan?”

“Um…” Tzuyu shrugged uncomfortably. “I'm going to keep practicing with my bow and arrow. I don't really care if the others see. I guess I'll show that to the Gamemakers too.” 

“And the interview?”

“I don't know.” Tzuyu swallowed nervously at the silence. “Sorry.”

Nayeon didn't look happy with her. But she just waved her hand dismissively and stood up. 

“I'll discuss things further with your mentors, but I'm glad you all have some idea of what you're doing. Now go train.”

Training was uneventful, which was a relief. Dahyun and Chaeyoung busied themselves trying to identify every kind of plant they could, while Tzuyu shot arrow after arrow until it felt like there were calluses forming on her fingertips. She could see the career tributes taking notice of her, but it didn't bother her. Whether they thought she was strong and dangerous or an easy target, either way they'd still be trying to kill each other. 

Besides, Dahyun's words from yesterday still rang in her head. When she noticed the girl from Two staring at her, she deliberately stared back. The girl,Momo, blushed and quickly looked away. Next to her, the girl from Four, Sana, frowned and glared at Tzuyu. 

It was like Tzuyu was back in school, watching a boy awkwardly confess to her and his friend yelling at Tzuyu a minute later for turning him down. For a moment she felt sorry for the two girls. They were just teenagers like her, really. 

But they were teenagers born and raised to fight and win the Games. Which meant Tzuyu needed to keep practicing with her bow if she was to stand a chance against them. 

She went back to shooting arrows, and didn't glance at Momo or Sana again for the rest of the day. 

* * *

“I can't believe she's already asleep.”

Dahyun looked to her left and smiled at the sight. Tzuyu, curled up in a ball on the rooftop of the training center. To her right, Chaeyoung watched the girl with a smile of her own. 

“In fairness, she spent the whole day shooting arrows. Not standing around studying plants.”

“I got sick of it after the third hour.” Chaeyoung rolled her eyes. “Foxglove, nightlock, who gives a damn?”

“I mean, one of them is a lethal poison. So I guess I give a bit of a damn about not eating that.”

Chaeyoung let out a tired laugh, leaning back further and staring up at the night sky. 

“I was so tempted to eat them today.” she said quietly. “But the trainer was too sharp. Kept a firm grip on the bowl and wouldn't let me pick them up.”

“Why would you want to eat them?” Dahyun frowned, confused. “Are you suicidal?”

A second later Dahyun felt embarrassed at the bluntness of her question, but thankfully Chaeyoung just laughed again. 

“No.” Chaeyoung shook her head. “I want to live. I want to go home and see my family again. I want to hug my brother and help my father with the cooking and listen to my mother sing.”

There was pain in her voice, and a longing look in her eyes. Dahyun thought of her own father, and felt a sudden sense of emptiness. Whatever emotion Chaeyoung was feeling right now, Dahyun simply couldn't relate to it. 

“Then why-” 

“Because I don't think I'm going to make it home.” Chaeyoung said flatly. “I was sent here because the Capitol want to punish my family. The odds aren't in my favour. At all.”

“Oh.” Dahyun shuffled awkwardly against the cold concrete. “But why not try anyway? Why give up now?”

“It's not about giving up.” Chaeyoung curled her arms around her legs, and Dahyun was struck by how small she was. “It's about defiance. They want to make me a victim, they see us as nothing but pawns. If I die in the Games after killing a bunch of tributes, then all I did was let them control me. But if I die before the Games even begin, then that hurts them, and at least my family can take comfort in the knowledge that I went down fighting.”

“Oh.” Dahyun said again. “That makes more sense I guess. But… You’ll still be dead. And I think your family would like it better if you fought to stay alive.”

Chaeyoung stared at her like she was an idiot. Not an encouraging sight from someone who was supposed to be her ally. 

“Forget it.” Chaeyoung scoffed. “Why are you trying to discourage me anyways? You need me and all the other tributes dead if you're going to get home to your own family.”

Dahyun raised an eyebrow, and Chaeyoung blushed. It was obvious she was getting defensive, so Dahyun decided not to push the issue further. 

“Well for one, you're my ally. Which means it would suck for me if you died before we even got in the arena.”

Chaeyoung frowned but nodded, grudgingly accepting Dahyun's point. 

“And for another, I don't have anyone to get home to. I'm trying because I don't want to die, not because it would hurt someone if I did. So I'm sorry, I guess I just don't get how you wouldn't leave suicide to a last resort, especially since you've got people who actually care if you survive.”

At first she was worried she was going to anger Chaeyoung again, but instead Chaeyoung just looked baffled. 

“No one?” she asked softly. “No friends, no family? How? I've only known you a few days and you're full of personality. I'm finding it hard to believe you're not the most popular kid in school.”

“I'm full of personality because I need to stand out here.” Dahyun tried not to let her smile seem bitter. “I’m from District 12, I can't just glare at the cameras and assume I'll get sponsors anyway. And no, I'm not popular in school. I barely talked to anyone, and then I dropped out to help support my family.”

“But you said…” Chaeyoung straightened up. “What happened to your family?”

“Nothing.” Dahyun shrugged. “My mom died when I was a kid. I got hit with a bad flu and she got executed for stealing medicine I needed to survive. Dad blames me for it, and once he started drinking he couldn't keep his anger in check anymore.”

It felt strange, telling her history to a girl she'd only been friends with for two days. But it wasn't like they had the time to learn these things about each other naturally. Might as well take the sympathetic ear while she had the chance. 

“I'm sorry.” Chaeyoung’s eyes were full of compassion, it made Dahyun slightly uncomfortable. “I can't even imagine… Parents are supposed to love and care for their kids. I'm sorry your dad failed you.”

“Thanks.” This was the strangest conversation Dahyun had ever had. “Ironically enough he probably gave me a better chance in the Games by teaching me how to run and hide, and how to take a beating and get back up. But I think I would've preferred having a dad who loved me, even if it would have made it harder when I got reaped.”

“You really don't think he'll miss you at all?”

Dahyun thought about it. Thought about the remorse in his voice as he apologised after she'd been chosen. Thought about the bottle of alcohol he'd brought with him, and the swig she'd seen him take as she was led away. 

“I think in one way I've been dead to him for a long time, and the part of him that might have still loved me accepted I was dead as soon as my name was chosen. He'll probably miss having someone to clean up the house, and he'll definitely miss the food I brought home and the drink money he got for having a child in his care. But I don't think he'll miss me, as a person. I'm pretty sure no one will.”

They sat there in silence for a moment. Chaeyoung looked out at the city, and Dahyun turned her eyes back to the sky. The stars were beautiful here, even if the light pollution meant she couldn't see them clearly. 

“I will.” Chaeyoung said suddenly. “If you die in the Games and I survive, I'll miss you.”

Dahyun glanced over, and found Chaeyoung staring at her with wide, earnest eyes. She was so certain, so sincere about it, that Dahyun didn't know how to react. 

“Thank you.” she said. 

Chaeyoung shrugged, and went back to staring out at the city. 

Any further talk was cut short when Tzuyu woke up suddenly, whining adorably in a way that made Dahyun's heart flutter. For a girl taller and more lethal than Dahyun, there was something so soft about Tzuyu. It made Dahyun want to protect her. 

It was a dangerous instinct. One she couldn't afford to take with her into the arena. She'd have to work on that. 

But for now, she and Chaeyoung got Tzuyu up off the rooftop and let her lean on them as she stumbled, half asleep, over to the elevator. 

* * *

Tzuyu was a weird one. 

Dahyun was too, but Chaeyoung knew that about her since their very first encounter. As Dahyun herself had said, her personality was a tool. At first Chaeyoung had found her strange and off putting, but after getting to know her a bit better she could respect Dahyun for using that as her charm. 

Tzuyu though, her strange behaviour wasn't as in your face as Dahyun's was. It was subtle, little things that Chaeyoung picked up, bit by bit forming a very confusing picture.

Like today, during training. Chaeyoung got bored easily after another few hours of tying knots and identifying plants, and her eyes turned to the archery station, where Tzuyu was practicing. 

She was good. Chaeyoung was definitely impressed by her raw talent. But she wasn't hitting dead centre, and Chaeyoung could see her growing understandably frustrated with that. In the arena, the targets would be moving fast, and the more accurate she could make her shots, the better. 

The trainer moved over to help Tzuyu, and Chaeyoung frowned at what she was seeing. She watched as the woman adjusted Tzuyu's stance, helping her pull the string back tighter. The arrow almost missed the target this time, but the woman just patted Tzuyu's shoulder encouragingly and told her she'd get the hang of it. 

“Be back in a minute.” Chaeyoung muttered to Dahyun, who looked up in surprise from the tourniquet she was concentrated on tying. 

The trainer was busy helping the boy from District 9 hold his bow properly, so Chaeyoung deemed it safe to talk to Tzuyu. The girl was fiddling with the string of her bow, and she looked so adorable with her tongue poking out of her mouth as she focused. Chaeyoung was struck by how unsuited she looked for the Games. Not like Dahyun, who's short and cute look hid respectable cunning. But genuine, young, wide eyed innocence. In Chaeyoung's opinion, there wasn't a single child, careers included, that belonged in the Games. But if she had to pick one girl to spare…

Well it wouldn't be fair to choose between Tzuyu and Dahyun. And it was a moot point anyway. Chaeyoung didn't have that kind of power, only wishful thinking. 

But there was something she could do, right here and now. 

“She taught you it wrong.”

Tzuyu glanced over at her, wide eyed and confused. Chaeyoung calmly took a hold of Tzuyu's arms and moved her so she was standing in front of the target again. 

“The way she showed you, it looks cooler. It'll wow the spectators more to see you make shots like that. But for better accuracy and power, you draw back like this.” Chaeyoung placed her hand on top of Tzuyu's, guiding the bowstring back and using her other hand to adjust Tzuyu's elbow. “And then you fire.”

The arrow moved faster than before. It wasn't dead centre, right between the eyes. But it was a lot closer than the other shots. A fatality for sure.

Tzuyu gasped, turning to look at Chaeyoung with awe. Chaeyoung blushed, shrugging modestly. 

“Archery was a requirement in school as part of our career training. I never took to it, but I can remember the proper technique.”

“Thank you.” There was a reverence in Tzuyu's voice that was almost unsettling. “You didn't have to help me out so… thank you.”

“It's no problem.” Chaeyoung scratched the back of her head awkwardly. “We're allies aren't we?”

“Ah.” Tzuyu's eyes widened, as if Chaeyoung had just said something very important. “Yes! Of course! Sorry.”

Chaeyoung just shrugged again and went back to the knot station. Tzuyu's reaction was a little strange, but on its own it didn't stand out as too unusual 

However, that was only incident one. Incident two occurred that same day, in the canteen. 

They were sitting together, Dahyun chatting away about the knots she'd made, trying to keep the mood up. Chaeyoung noticed that Tzuyu had finished eating, and was eyeing the buffet again. Feeling full, Chaeyoung pushed her plate across the table. 

The look Tzuyu gave her was one of pure confusion. 

“You like eel right? I've seen you get it almost every day.”

“Yes but…” Tzuyu looked down at the plate like it was poisoned. “This is yours?”

“I've eaten enough. And I'm not a big fan of eel anyway.” Tzuyu still looked shocked, and now Dahyun was staring in confusion, so Chaeyoung tried to brush past it. “I just figured I'd save you the walk up. You were going to get more eel right?”

“I… yes.” Tzuyu nodded. “Thank you so much.”

“It's nothing.” The look Chaeyoung shared with Dahyun confirmed that she wasn't the only one who found this a little strange. “Really, don't worry about it.”

Tzuyu nodded again, her head bobbing up and down rapidly. She ate the food without any further questions, and Chaeyoung was willing to put her confusion aside once again and just accept the fact that Tzuyu was a little odd. But strike two wasn't the end of it. 

The third incident happened later that night. Training was over, and Dahyun had taken her leave, explaining that her mentor wanted to discuss strategies for the interview. Chaeyoung and Tzuyu decided to head to the roof again, but before they left Tzuyu popped into the bathroom on the ground floor. 

Chaeyoung really should have seen it coming. District 1 was based on the ground floor after all. But when her district partner and the boy from District 2 walked over to her, she knew she was in trouble. 

Judging by their smirks, they knew it too. 

“Don't worry.” Her own partner sneered. “We're not going to kill you. Just want to see how tough you are without the fancy sword.”

“I'm a fourteen year old girl who probably weighs less than half of what you do.” Chaeyoung glared up at him. “How do you think this is going to go?”

“I think we're going to have some fun.” The boy from Two reached for her hair, and when Chaeyoung shoved his hand away the other boy slapped her across the face. 

She fell to the ground, prepared for more blows. But they never came. Instead, she heard footsteps racing, and one of them yelped. There was a thumping sound, and she felt someone slam into the wall above her. 

She looked up, and Tzuyu was standing there, cold fury in her eyes. The District 1 boy scrambled up off the floor, while the District 2 boy charged at Tzuyu. 

“What's going on here?”

They all froze at the new voice. Chaeyoung's heart sank at the sight of Momo and Sana. Momo was the one who had spoken, but she barely glanced at Chaeyoung, her eyes focused on Tzuyu. 

Tzuyu glared back, and Chaeyoung was surprised at the intensity of it. 

“Keep your boys away from her. Or I'll break their arms before the Games even begin.” 

Tzuyu was strong, strong enough to slam a sixteen year old career into a wall. But it was still one against four, and Chaeyoung slowly eased herself up, preparing to grab Tzuyu and run. 

But to her surprise, Momo just nodded. She grabbed a hold of her partner, Sana grabbed the District 1 boy, and then they were gone. 

Tzuyu stood there, glaring at them as they retreated. Chaeyoung watched her, worried, waiting for her to cry, or look scared. 

Tzuyu didn’t do any of that. She looked…  _ alive.  _ Her eyes shone, and she grinned at Chaeyoung as she gave her a hand to help her up.

“Did you see that?” Tzuyu practically giggled, and it was both adorable and unnerving. “They were scared of me! I could have killed them Chaeyoung.”

“Yeah, or they might have killed you.” Chaeyoung didn’t want to bring the girl’s spirits down, but they had to face reality. “They’ll be going after you really hard in the Games now. You’ve made yourself a threat.”

“Let them try.” Tzuyu smiled. “I won’t let anyone touch you or Dahyun.”

Chaeyoung wanted to argue, to try and make Tzuyu see sense. But Tzuyu’s expression had already dimmed a little, and the smile she gave Chaeyoung now was not bubbly and exhilarated. It was calm and confident, like she truly believed she could kill everything that tried to hurt them.

One wall slam and a talent for archery shouldn’t make anyone that confident. Chaeyoung wanted to say it was arrogance, but she couldn’t. Not when she didn’t even understand what was going through Tzuyu’s mind right now.

“Come on.” she tried not to show how unsettled she was. “Let’s go to the roof.”

Tzuyu practically skipped into the elevator, and Chaeyoung’s unease grew.

* * *

Dahyun joined them after an hour or so. She didn't tell them how the meeting with her mentor had gone and they didn't ask. For a while they just sat there, staring out at the city in companionable silence.

There was something Tzuyu wanted to ask Chaeyoung, but she was hesitant to break the silence. She didn't want to anger her new friends. Especially Chaeyoung, who was very confusing. 

Tzuyu had never had a friend before, but Dahyun was straightforward about it. She said Tzuyu was her friend and that meant she sat with her and talked with her and joked with her about everything. Chaeyoung seemed reluctant to agree to the friendship label, and sometimes she looked at Tzuyu like she was the weird one. But how else was Tzuyu supposed to react, when Chaeyoung bounced between random acts of kindness and cold dismissals? Tzuyu was used to the latter, but the former she'd rarely experienced before. 

She didn't want to upset Chaeyoung, she had a feeling she'd already messed up earlier. Saving your friend from bullies was meant to be a good thing, but Chaeyoung had just looked scared. Tzuyu could keep quiet for the rest of the night and hope things would be better in the morning, or she could ask Chaeyoung her question and hope it didn't make things worse. 

Tzuyu had never been a fan of inactivity. 

“Chaeyoung?” Both she and Dahyun turned to look at Tzuyu. “Can you… tell us about your family?”

Chaeyoung looked surprised. Tzuyu braced for Chaeyoung to get cold and offended, but it never happened. Maybe Chaeyoung didn't mind sharing her stories, or maybe she saw the look in Tzuyu's eyes and understood that she needed this right now. Either way, she smiled and nodded. 

Tzuyu felt warm inside. Especially when Dahyun smiled too, slinging an arm around Tzuyu's shoulder and settling them against the wall. 

She liked this. Having friends. She wished she'd been able to have this sooner, to have people who smiled at her. But at least she had it now, even though two of them would be dead within two weeks time. 

“You heard us talking huh?” Chaeyoung grinned. “Thought you were asleep that night.”

Tzuyu shrugged, feeling herself blush at the teasing smiles being directed at her. 

“I was dozing in and out. I heard enough that I got curious.”

“What about?”

“All of it.” Tzuyu answered honestly. “What's it like, having a family?”

She knew the implications of that question, but other than Chaeyoung's quick surprised expression and Dahyun's hand tightening around Tzuyu's shoulder, they handled it smoothly. 

“My mom taught me how to fight.” Chaeyoung didn't smile, but Tzuyu could hear the fondness in her voice. “She was top of her class back in the day. Everyone expected her to volunteer and when she didn't, they shunned her. Told her she was a waste of potential, called her ungrateful, her parents even threw her out once she didn't volunteer at the last games she was eligible. But my father, his parents were rebels, and when he saw what happened to my mother, he offered her a place to stay. Three years later she proposed to him, and he said yes.”

Now Chaeyoung was smiling, and Tzuyu's attention flickered between listening to the stories and marvelling at the beauty in front of her. Chaeyoung's dark eyes shimmering in the moonlight, Dahyun's blonde hair reflecting the city lights. During the day, there was no time to get distracted, not even when Dahyun swung down so that her face was only inches from Tzuyu. But up here on the roof, Tzuyu allowed herself space to breathe. To feel. 

Chaeyoung continued talking and Tzuyu listened, completely enraptured. She talked about cooking with her father and getting bailed out of trouble by her mother and teaching her little brother how to paint his nails only for him to turn out better at it than she was. She painted a picture in Tzuyu's mind, of the warm, well lit houses back in District 8 away from the shadow of the factories. Of a man smiling as he left work after a twelve hour shift, of the children running happily through the marketplace as their parents argued with vendors. Of a boy holding his little sister's hand tightly as they walked towards her first Reaping. All memories in which Tzuyu had never been more than an observer. And yet with Chaeyoung's words, she felt like she had a bit more understanding about what that life was like. 

Chaeyoung spoke of warmth and laughter and fear and fights and tears and joy and love. So many different stories, all from the same simple home. A concept utterly forgein to Tzuyu, and yet it made her heart ache with longing. 

To be loved was a precious gift. That's what Tzuyu understood most, after listening to Chaeyoung. 

She could have sat there all night on the rooftop, listening to Chaeyoung speak. But Chaeyoung got tired quickly, having done a lot of strength training during the latter half of the day. Her eyes began to droop, and that's when Dahyun moved over to let her rest her head on the older girl’s legs. 

Tzuyu pouted a little at the loss of Dahyun's arm around her shoulders. It was alarming how greedy she'd gotten, soaking up every bit of affection Dahyun was willing to give. 

Dahyun was looking at her softly now, as Chaeyoung began snoring on her lap. Tzuyu knew this would happen, had known since she opened her mouth and asked Chaeyoung to share some of that warmth she carried with her. 

“So you're like me huh?” Dahyun said. 

No judgement in her words, just curiosity. Still, Tzuyu was unsure what the truthful answer would be. So she just shrugged. 

“In a way, yes.” she admitted. “I've got no family waiting for me to come home.”

“So… like me then.” Dahyun grinned. 

She wasn't laughing at Tzuyu. Not the way the kids in school did when she fumbled her words. It was a different kind of laughter, the kind people gave the young boy who used to dance in the marketplace in hopes of getting some scraps of charity. Fond, joyful, with no malice. 

She wished she could stop feeling so giddy every time Dahyun smiled at her like this. It wasn't practical. Not if she wanted to survive.

“Do you remember your mother?” Tzuyu asked. 

Dahyun, as always, showed no confusion towards the subject change. 

“Yeah.” her face softened. “She was kind, and she sang to me and made me laugh. It's been years, but it still feels like part of me is empty without her, you know?”

“I don't.” Tzuyu replied. “I never knew my family.”

“Oh.” Dahyun frowned. “Never?”

“They died before I was 12 months old. A fire in one of the factories. I don't know how I survived after that, who took care of me, but my earliest memories are walking around the streets alone. As far as I can remember, there's been no one.”

“But then… How  _ did  _ you survive?” It was interesting to see Dahyun so surprised. “A toddler can hardly fend for themselves.”

“A foreman from one of the textile factories found me sleeping against a vent. He gave me a place to sleep inside the factory if I would work for him during the day. There were problems with the machines that only tiny hands could fix, and most parents were reluctant to risk their young children like that.”

Dahyun looked grim, but she didn't seem surprised. Tzuyu assumed life was equally as harsh for those in District 12.

“So that's how I survived. No family, no friends. I was lucky to last as long as I have. There's only so long you can face the world alone.”

She didn't mean to sound so defeatist. But it was hard not to while ruminating on her rather pathetic life. 

“Hey, no. Don't think like that.” Dahyun reached over to take Tzuyu's hands. “I've been alone for most of my life too, and getting reaped is just another shitty hand we've been dealt. It doesn't have to mean the end.”

“I know.” Tzuyu smiled. “We're not alone anymore, are we? I have you, and Chaeyoung. That's already more luck than I'm used to.”

Dahyun's comforting smile wavered. Tzuyu knew they were thinking the same thing: that their time together was limited. 

Tzuyu had come to terms with it. She didn't think the other two had, not yet. She didn't blame them for that either. 

Dahyun didn't push, but she did squeeze Tzuyu's hands once again before letting go. Tzuyu smiled as her hands instinctively went to Chaeyoung's hair, stroking it gently as the younger girl slept. 

It still made Tzuyu's head spin. To be allowed to be a part of such domestic scenes, instead of merely an observer. 

“Is there really no one you could consider family?” Dahyun's question broke through the warm fuzziness in Tzuyu's mind. “I'm sorry, I'm just trying to wrap my head around it. I mean, my dad's a piece of shit. But he wasn't always. When I think of family, I see him and my mother, as we used to be. I guess I'm just really surprised to find someone with not even a memory.”

Tzuyu frowned, thinking hard. The one person who'd been a constant in her life for as long as she could remember was the foreman. The man who gave her a roof over her head, who let her go to school during the day once she got old enough, who made her crawl under heavy machinery when she was still too young to walk without wobbling, who beat her or left her outside in the cold if she accidentally broke anything in the factory. 

“No.” she said. “I don't have anyone.”

She could see the pity in Dahyun's eyes, the urge to say something comforting. 

_ You have us. _

_ We can be your family now.  _

Empty promises, considering there could only be one Victor of the Hunger Games. Meaningless words of comfort, and she could see Dahyun deflate as she struggled to find a reassuring statement that wasn't a complete lie. 

In the end, she came up empty. She smiled gently at Tzuyu, whatever words she'd been trying to say unable to leave her lips for fear of sounding meaningless. 

Tzuyu wished she would have said it anyway.

* * *

Tzuyu liked to hover. That was what Dahyun had noticed.

Chaeyoung threw herself into whatever task was at hand, be it knot tying or sword fighting. But Tzuyu, although she practiced her archery diligently, every chance she got she would look around, searching the room for Dahyun or Chaeyoung.

Dahyun watched her too, but Dahyun watched everyone. She watched Sana press Momo down into the training mat, some strange tension bubbling between them. She watched Mina looking at them quietly and in awe. She watched the boy from District 10 struggle to complete the strength training course, and she watched Tzuyu's district partner throw spears, casting sad looks towards the archery station. 

She watched, and she evaluated, and she made her decision. Tzuyu was constantly scoring bullseyes now, so Dahyun didn't feel guilty for interrupting her training. 

She left Chaeyoung at the fishing station, heading over to Tzuyu. The younger girl beamed when she saw Dahyun approach, and Dahyun's heart did a weird flip. 

Troubling, but not something to stress over yet. 

“Hey.” Dahyun smiled back at her. “You're pretty good with the bow and arrow already. Want to try something new?”

“Like what?” Tzuyu's eyes brimmed with innocent curiosity. 

“Climbing.” Dahyun nodded over to the monkey bars. “How much experience have you with it?”

“Not much.” Tzuyu admitted. “Most of the machines they got me to fix involved crawling.”

“Well you're strong.” Dahyun slung her arm around Tzuyu's shoulders, fully aware of the effect it would have on her. “I'm sure you'll get the hang of it quickly.”

A few days ago, Dahyun would have been reluctant to offer help like this. Her climbing skill was one of the few useful advantages she had, and if she taught Tzuyu then what use would Tzuyu have for her?

Dahyun remembered how dismissive Tzuyu was of her the first time they spoke. But the girl had warmed up to her new partners alarmingly quick, so quick that Dahyun had been suspicious her soft adoring looks were just an act. 

After hearing about Tzuyu's life before the Games, she didn't have those suspicions anymore. Tzuyu was a strangely honest girl, easy to read in some ways and completely baffling to Dahyun in others. 

But one thing she was certain she was reading correctly was the affection Tzuyu had for her and Chaeyoung. It anyone was to break their alliance, it wouldn't be the girl who lit up like the sun any time Dahyun called her a friend. 

Tzuyu began swinging across the obstacle course, and whenever she faltered all Dahyun needed to do was give her an encouraging smile, and she'd get a fresh burst of energy. 

It took her twenty minutes to complete. Watching Tzuyu grin and bow in her direction, Dahyun felt proud. 

But also, strangely, ashamed. 

* * *

Chaeyoung knew a drop was coming. Things had been going too well. She'd actually been feeling happy, hanging around with Dahyun and Tzuyu. But obviously, it couldn't last. 

She didn't expect Nayeon to be the one to burst her bubble. 

Her mentor pulled all three of them into her bedroom that night, sitting them down in front of a large TV. 

“What's this about?” Chaeyoung asked. 

Maybe she shouldn't have sounded so distracted, but it was hard not to when she could feel Dahyun's pinky finger brushing against hers. Her light tone just made the grim expression on Nayeon's face more severe. 

“Your attitude.” Her mentor replied. “Don't get me wrong, I'm delighted this alliance is giving you hope. It should. But I'm starting to worry that when you're actually confronted with the reality of the Games, you'll freeze.”

“You mean when we get into an arena designed to kill us and have to fight all these other kids or else we'll end up brutally murdered?” Chaeyoung rolled her eyes. “I think we know what to expect.”

The temperature in the room seemed to drop with the glare Nayeon sent her. Chaeyoung gulped, her hand instinctively moving closer to Dahyun's. 

“Tell me girls, if you had to choose one method to kill the other tributes with, regardless of how likely your chances are, what would you pick?”

“Arrow through the eye.” Tzuyu answered first, with no hesitation. 

Dahyun took a few seconds to answer, frowning thoughtfully. 

“I'd snap their necks.” she said in the end. “Relatively painless, but if in this imaginary scenario I could do it to everyone, it means I'm the strongest tribute in the Arena.”

All eyes were on Chaeyoung. She bit her lip, then answered hesitantly. 

“Nightlock. If I could kill them all any way I wanted to, no matter how unrealistic, then I'd ask them all to take the berries and go to sleep. Quick and painless, like Dahyun said.”

“Well congratulations, none of you are cruel sadists.” Nayeon's smile was flat and bitter. “But you can't be certain all of the other tributes will be the same. So you're going to sit here and watch this lovely little tribute I made to the most brutal killers in Hunger Games history, and then hopefully, if you meet someone like that in the Arena, you won't freeze.”

Nayeon hit play and then she left, shutting the door behind her.

Chaeyoung felt her mouth go dry as the first tribute popped up on the screen. She recognised him, from District 1. He was one of the Victors, who thankfully hadn't been chosen to mentor this year. 

Watching him gleefully bash in the skulls of all of the other tributes, laughing as they screamed and begged for mercy, Chaeyoung began to suspect there was a reason for that. 

The next tribute was from District 4, a girl with teeth filed down so that they looked like a shark. She only used her trident long enough to disarm her opponents. Then she ripped them to shreds with her teeth. 

Dahyun looked away when the camera zoomed in on one girl getting the skin of her neck torn out. Chaeyoung's hand found hers and held it tightly. 

Another Victor, this time from District 2. The only weapons she used were sharpened metal claws. As she tore her victims into pieces, Chaeyoung was glad that at least she showed no interest in eating them. 

Another from District 4. This one used tiny fish hooks to torture his victims, ripping their flesh off piece by piece. 

“I can't watch this.” Dahyun's voice was husky with tears. 

Chaeyoung squeezed her hand, but kept her eyes on the screen. 

A girl from District 5 who poisoned the water supply, so that the other tributes died retching blood in a pool of their own vomit. A boy from District 7 who built a pit filled with deadly animals, and lured his enemies into a slow and painful death by snake bites and claw marks. 

Another year, another gruesome death. Chaeyoung grew desensitised to the screams, but it was hard not to throw her dinner back up with each graphic image. 

When the video ended, Nayeon opened the door. She took one look at their pale faces and her expression flickered, almost remorseful. 

“I'm sorry to put you through that.” she said. “But it's important to be prepared. Everyone glamourised the Games to me, and it almost cost me my life more than once. When I got out, I was furious that no one had told me what the reality of the Arena was like.”

Dahyun bolted out of the room as soon as Nayeon was finished. Nayeon let her go, and Tzuyu took that as her cue to leave too. She waved goodbye to Chaeyoung with a smile, and then it was only her and Nayeon left. 

Chaeyoung let the silence linger for a minute, trying to gather her thoughts. Nayeon waited patiently. 

“Did you ever think…” Chaeyoung began slowly. “That showing us that video might have the opposite effect on us? That we might freeze in the arena at the slightest hint of something gruesome, because now we have those images in our heads?”

“I did.” Nayeon replied calmly. “Given the statistics, it was a risk I was willing to take.”

Chaeyoung nodded. Nayeon's face flickered again. 

“I am sorry I had to do that.” she said, and Chaeyoung believed her. “I want you to be happy, but my priority is to keep you alive.”

“I understand.” Chaeyoung said. “I think I want to sleep now.”

Nayeon nodded, still looking vaguely remorseful. She closed the door again, and Chaeyoung was alone. 

Sleep did not come easily that night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: Tzuyu makes a confession, and Jihyo worries about her tribute.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: For mentions of suicide, self harm, and forced prostitution. Skip Jihyo's section if you wish to avoid these subjects.

The next day, Tzuyu began her archery training again. She shot arrow after arrow with intense focus, refusing to let any of the other tributes distract her. If she was to stop Dahyun and Chaeyoung from ending up like the victims in Nayeon’s video, her shots would need to be quick and accurate, no matter the external circumstances.

If she messed up, it wasn’t like she would just get a second place trophy. Her friends, her first precious friends, would die. 

A few days ago Tzuyu wouldn’t have cared about what happened to Kim Dahyun or Son Chaeyoung. Now, she cared far too much.

She was able to reason it out in her mind, so far anyway. Having people to care about gave her better motivation to improve. It made her more likely to survive.

There was one glaringly obvious flaw to this logic, but Tzuyu was doing her best to pretend it didn’t exist.

It was hard though, to ignore the fact that two of them would have to die. Especially when Chaeyoung walked over to her, bored from the water filtration station. 

“You’re amazing with that bow.” And once again, Tzuyu felt herself falling deeper into her flawed, weak state of mind. “Show me how you do it.”

Tzuyu obeyed, determined not to think too hard about it right now. There had been a magic to their nights on the rooftop, a trance Tzuyu had let herself get caught up in. But last night had grounded her, made her remember how she felt stepping onto the train. Images from Nayeon’s video flashed through her brain as she readied her arrow. She let out a short, sharp breath, trying to steady herself. She was the predator here, not the prey.

But if it was to save Dahyun or Chaeyoung, would she let herself be brutalised like the past victims of the Games? 

No. They were her friends. But she wasn’t too deeply enamoured that she would let herself be torn apart for them.

She let go of the string and fired. Chaeyoung smiled and clapped her on the back when her arrow landed perfectly.

_Not yet anyway._ Her brain whispered.

Tzuyu couldn’t disagree with that.

Chaeyoung pulled back her own bowstring, and fired. Her arrow didn’t land dead centre like Tzuyu’s, but it hit the target. She smiled, satisfied with that. Tzuyu watched her, and felt a strange lump in her throat.

Dahyun was charming, and she knew it. She used it like a weapon, and Tzuyu admired her for that. But Chaeyoung, she was just as charming in Tzuyu’s eyes. Her dimple smile, her skill with weaponry, her straightforward anger towards those responsible for the tragedy of the Games. It was very, very hard not to get wrapped up in wanting Chaeyoung to like her. Wanting them both to, really.

It was strange. In one way, Dahyun was far more approachable. If Tzuyu had to point to one of them that she was more certain actually cared for her, it would be Dahyun. But at the same time, every action Dahyun did was wrapped in a layer of false cheer. It was disarming, made people trust her without realising how little she’d given them in return.

Tzuyu didn’t have a problem with that. At the end of the day, they all had the same goal of survival. Their friendship was born out of the need for allies, and if Dahyun was comfortable saying Tzuyu was her friend despite that fact, then Tzuyu was comfortable taking her at face value. Whether it was motivated by the desire to survive, or if it was completely genuine, Dahyun was kind to her. And she made Tzuyu feel cared for, more than anyone ever had before.

Chaeyoung was almost the complete opposite to Dahyun. She was raw and honest, all bluntness and unfiltered anger. And yet somehow, it made her even more beautiful to Tzuyu when she smiled. Because any time she got a dimpled laugh out of Chaeyoung, she knew it was genuine. Chaeyoung had no reason or desire to hide her emotions, and Tzuyu respected that just as much as she respected Dahyun for her caution.

And when Chaeyoung smiled at her, that genuine fond grin, it hit Tzuyu like a bulldozer. It was the best feeling she’d ever experienced, right up there with Dahyun hugging Tzuyu close and calling her a friend.

Exhilarating and terrifying all at once.

“You’re perfect.” Chaeyoung said, and Tzuyu’s heart nearly stopped. “At the archery, I mean. We’ve only got a few days left. If you could do anything you want in here, just for fun. What would you do?”

It was an obvious attempt to take Tzuyu’s mind off last night. She appreciated it, and Chaeyoung’s complete lack of subtlety just made her feel even fonder towards the shorter girl.

“I like…” Tzuyu frowned, trying to think of something she enjoyed. “I like animals.”

“Really?” Chaeyoung looked around. “Damn, I think the only animal related station is about killing them and using their body to survive.”

“Not that one then.”

“Nope.” Chaeyoung grinned. “Anything else you like?”

“You.”

Chaeyoung’s eyebrows shot up, and she looked so shocked that Tzuyu couldn’t help but laugh.

“I like spending time with you and Dahyun.” Tzuyu explained. “It doesn’t really matter what we’re doing, if you two are having fun I probably will be as well.”

Chaeyoung gave her that look again, like something about Tzuyu just didn’t make sense to her. But she smiled, so Tzuyu didn’t think she’d done anything wrong.

“Alright.” Chaeyoung took her hand, pulling her over to where Dahyun was sorting through plants. “Let’s look at some poisons.”

* * *

They were all reluctant to leave the rooftop that night.

Dahyun didn’t want to sleep at all. Last night she had dreamt of being chased through the woods by a girl with her neck ripped out. When she’d finally caught Dahyun, she’d torn her apart bit by bit, until all that was left were Dahyun’s bones to gnaw on.

“Do you think if we just stay here, they’d let us sleep until morning?”

Tzuyu seemed to actually ponder the question, whereas Chaeyoung just rolled her eyes and smiled.

“I doubt that Dahyun. Can’t have their little puppets be too unsupervised.”

“I don’t want to sleep alone tonight.” Dahyun admitted quietly.

Chaeyoung looked at her sympathetically, and Dahyun had a feeling she wasn’t the only one suffering from nightmares. Tzuyu just looked concerned for the both of them, which Dahyun thought was sweet.

“We’ll stay up here as long as we can.” Chaeyoung said, her hand reaching for Dahyun’s.

They were doing that a lot recently, holding hands. Dahyun wasn’t sure why. She knew that she was more than a little touch-starved, but Chaeyoung wasn’t. Although considering what life in District 1 sounded like, maybe she was just in need of a good friend.

_Friend._ There was something strange about calling Chaeyoung that, the same way it felt when she called Tzuyu a friend. Probably due to the Games. Hard to call someone your friend sincerely when that friendship had an expiration date, even if Dahyun meant it wholeheartedly.

Which she did. They were good, kind people. They made her smile. They brightened up what could very well be the last week of her life, and she wanted to hang out with them every day. If that wasn’t a friend, then what was?

And yet, the word still felt strange in her head. Like what they had wasn’t normal friendship, but something different. Something she couldn’t figure out a name for.

“I love you guys.” Tzuyu said suddenly, dragging Dahyun out of her thoughts.

Both she and Chaeyoung stared at Tzuyu, and even in the dim glow of the city lights Dahyun could see the blush on Tzuyu’s face.

“I just wanted to say it now, in case I forget later. Because I’m tired, and might go to bed soon.”

Silence. Dahyun struggled to come up with an appropriate response. Damn Tzuyu and her curveballs that somehow Dahyun could never be mad about.

“You don’t have to say it back.” Tzuyu said quickly. “I just want you to know.”

“Thanks Tzuyu.” Chaeyoung said, her voice softer than Dahyun had ever heard. “It means a lot.”

Tzuyu smiled, and Dahyun wished once again that she could just open her mouth and say the right words, turn that shy smile into a beaming grin.

But she couldn’t. She just didn’t have it in her.

Why not? Why couldn’t she say _I love you too._ Did she not mean it?

Maybe. Or maybe she did, and it was too scary to acknowledge. Was it even possible to love someone you met less than a week ago? Could she just tell Tzuyu that she liked her a lot and be satisfied with that?

The problem with these calm nights on the rooftop was that Dahyun had far too much silence to mull over thoughts like these. She needed to fix that.

“I’d say it back, but then I’d probably start crying.” she joked to fill the quiet.

It was a lousy attempt at humour, but Chaeyoung laughed and Tzuyu smiled a little wider, so that was good enough.

Tzuyu yawned, reminding Dahyun of a sleepy little kitten she’d once seen in an alley. The way she stretched after definitely added to that picture.

“I’m going to get some sleep.” She stood up, then hesitantly placed a hand on Dahyun’s shoulder. “I hope you have a good night.”

Dahyun’s smile wasn’t as bright as she wanted, but she clutched Tzuyu’s hand tightly as she passed by them, and hoped it was enough.

The elevator dinged, and Chaeyoung flopped down to look up at the stars.

“Then there were two.” she said, chuckling lightly. “What do you think Dahyun? Want to stay up here until they come looking for us? Might help you sleep better.”

It was tempting. Just her and Chaeyoung and the stars, so easy to forget about everything painful when up here the world felt impossibly big.

But with Tzuyu gone, it was already beginning to feel too empty.

“We could, but they’d be pissed when they find us. And I want to come back here tomorrow night, and the night after that.”

“Always so logical.” Chaeyoung grumbled with no malice. “Fine, fine. Let’s go down.”

She sprung up, and Dahyun climbed to her feet slowly. There was a question in her mind, a request. But it scared her.

She was tired of being scared.

“Chaeyoung?” Chaeyoung paused on her way to the elevator. “Can we… can we sleep together tonight?”

Chaeyoung immediately broke out into a wicked grin, and Dahyun cringed at the way she’d phrased that.

“Dahyun honey it’s understandable you don’t want to die a virgin but I’m only fourteen, sex isn’t really on my bucketlist yet.”

“Oh my god shut up.” Dahyun put her head in her hands. “You sound like those annoying cocky boys in my class always making sex jokes.”

“The popular studs who get all the girls?”

“The losers who think the word penis is funny but can’t even unhook a bra.”

“Speaking from experience?”

“Not in the slightest thankfully.”

Chaeyoung smiled, softer this time. She held out her hand and Dahyun took it, pulling herself fully off the ground. 

"Do you think your mentor will mind?" 

"Haymitch?" Dahyun shrugged. "Maybe. Or he might not care or be too drunk to notice. What about Nayeon?" 

"I'm not sure either." Chaeyoung smirked. "But there's only one way to find out."

In another life, in a simpler world, Dahyun felt like she might have let that mischievous smirk talk her into anything. 

In this cruel universe, sneaking into Chaeyoung's bed was the one risky pleasure she'd allow herself. 

* * *

She could feel Dahyun's breath tickling her nose. 

The other girl had fallen asleep quickly after climbing into Chaeyoung’s bed. Which was a good thing. The whole point of this sleepover was to help both of them get a good night’s sleep. And judging from Dahyun’s soft, peaceful breathing, she wasn’t having any nightmares.

Hopefully Chaeyoung would be the same. But first she actually had to sleep, which was harder than expected. Her eyes wouldn’t close, too fascinated by the girl sleeping in front of her. 

She hadn’t really noticed how beautiful Dahyun was up until now. She had acknowledged it in her mind when they first met, the same as with Tzuyu. But back then it was a simple thought about them probably getting a sponsor or two because of their looks. Now it was lying face to face with Dahyun and marvelling over how soft and pretty she looked.

Her mind kept wandering to Tzuyu, casually telling them she loved them. She didn’t know why, but she couldn’t stop thinking about that moment. If she tried to pull her thoughts away from it, they just went straight to Dahyun.

It would have been nice, growing up in the same district as Dahyun. If she ignored the Games for a minute, ignored the Capitol and her impending death and everything else miserable about her current life, she could pretend that she and Dahyun were just two friends having a sleepover after school. It was a nice fantasy, one that filled her with a peaceful kind of warmth. Chaeyoung had a feeling Dahyun would have been a great best friend, and she probably would have ended up having a crush on her, maybe even falling in love. Something about the way she carried herself, her confidence and her beauty and her vulnerability. Despite knowing that one of them would have to die, Chaeyoung found herself enamoured by the older girl. If the Games didn’t exist, she would probably be free to feel a whole lot more.

Dahyun frowned in her sleep. Chaeyoung resisted the urge to reach over and smooth out her wrinkled brow. It would be creepy, and probably pathetic.

She turned away, so that she was staring up at the ceiling. She knew it would be difficult, killing innocent people. She’d known that much since the second her name was plucked out of the bowl. But she hadn’t expected to grow close to any of them. And even if she pulled away now, it was too late. She knew Dahyun and Tzuyu as people, not just as scared tributes trying to survive. She knew Dahyun’s laugh for the camera and her actual laugh, she knew how Tzuyu liked to hum and sing as she worked, she knew the way both of them looked at each other, with so much fondness and longing. 

And she knew that they would have to die for her to live.

She was an idiot. Not for agreeing to the alliance, Nayeon was right when she said it was necessary. But for getting so attached, for seeing them as more than a means to an end.

No, that wasn’t right either. Chaeyoung closed her eyes to stop hot tears from leaking out.

It just wasn’t _fair._ Caring for people, having compassion, they were supposed to be good things. Things that set her apart from the Capitol, who only saw people as useful or expendable. She was better than them because the lives of innocents mattered to her. 

And yet here she was, wishing that Dahyun and Tzuyu didn’t matter to her.

Pathetic.

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the negative voice in her head. She thought of her dad’s gentle smile, of her mother’s warm hug. They wouldn’t be disappointed in her for making friends. They’d be happy for her, and deeply sad and angry that the Capitol were going to take them away from her.

This was the Capitol, Chaeyoung told herself. Not her. It wasn’t her fault that Dahyun and Tzuyu had to die.

She repeated it like a mantra, until she felt her body growing heavy with tiredness. Before she fell asleep, she took one last look at Dahyun.

The guilt and fear in her heart came rushing back, just as strong as before.

As she dozed off, the last thought on her mind was Tzuyu’s bright smile.

* * *

Mina was an intelligent girl.

It felt strange in some ways to consider her a girl. She was the same age as Jihyo after all, and just as clever if not more so. Jihyo may have been a prodigy back in District 3, but she'd grown up with the best education possible. Mina had been working in a factory since the age of twelve, and yet she held her own in every conversation Jihyo had with her since she stepped on the train. The other mentor and tribute had been left baffled as they discussed the various types of inverting amplifier circuits that could be created within the arena. Mina had been straightforward and direct in her questioning about the Games, far easier for Jihyo to handle then the scared fourteen year old she'd had to mentor last year. 

It made her want to do right by Mina, to see her win. It was mildly terrifying how much she wanted Mina to win, enough to take risks like allying with the careers.

It should be fine. Mina was smart, she should know how far to let the alliance play out, should know how to rely on the careers but never to trust them. 

And yet…

"Sana's amazing." Mina chewed and swallowed her cereal quickly, excited to keep gushing. "I watched her spar against the boys today and she held her own. It took them a full five minutes to bring her down even though she just had a spear!" 

"That's great." Jihyo forced a smile. "Hopefully she'll be able to keep you safe then."

"Yeah." Mina's smile didn't falter. "I'm really glad she and Momo are my friends. Even if the boys turn on me I think they'll protect me."

The knot in Jihyo's stomach twisted. Despite her age and intelligence, when she looked at Mina she couldn't help but see an innocent child. The Games had taken that from Jihyo, left her jaded and world weary. There was a difference in their perspectives too great for Jihyo to reach her. 

But she had to try. 

"They're not your friends Mina. They're careers. They'll kill you as soon as you're not useful to them."

Finally, she saw the conflicted look she was hoping for. But Mina's expression smoothed over alarmingly quick. 

"Nayeon's a career."

"Nayeon's a Victor. These kids won't realise what a mistake it was to volunteer until it's too late."

Mina took another bite of her cereal. Jihyo watched her, trying not to show how anxious she felt. 

"Momo didn't want to volunteer." Mina said quietly. "She felt pressured into it by her family and her teachers. The culture in District 2 is completely different from District 3. I can't judge her for volunteering when the circumstances are so unlike my own."

"Mina-" Jihyo sighed. 

"Sana did volunteer, because she wants to bring honor to her family." Mina's voice had an edge to it now. "But I see how she looks at Momo, and at me too. I caught her crying yesterday, because it finally hit her that she would have to kill us to win. I know you want me to think of them as monsters, and I understand why. But they're not. They're my friends, and even though I want to survive I still care about them."

"I'm just scared for you." Jihyo tried not to sound judgemental. "One second hesitation is all it takes. I know that you think they're good people, but statistically career tributes are less likely to hesitate when it comes to killing people than tributes like you. If you three are the last ones left-"

"Then we'll all have to fight hard to kill each other." Now Mina's voice was hollow. "I understand what you mean, and maybe you're right. Maybe they'll kill me without a second hesitation. But I don't think so. I think it's going to hurt them as much as it hurts me."

"You haven't even known each other for a week." Jihyo barely kept her voice calm. "I'm begging you, don't get too attached to them. I know it's a hard thing to ask but-" 

"It's too late." Mina stood up from the table. "You'll just have to trust me. I can care about them, I can wish that we all became friends without the Games being a part of it, and I can still fight with everything I have to get home to my family and friends."

Jihyo let her go. There was nothing further she could think of that might convince Mina. She hadn't meant to upset the younger girl, she just wanted her to gain some perspective. As cold as it might sound, love was useless in the Games. Jihyo had loved no one, had ran and hid and survived with only two kills to her name, both from traps she'd set and hadn't been around to witness. The fear of being hunted was still there, but Jihyo would take that price any day having seen the alternatives. 

Nayeon had loved someone in the Games, and Jihyo knew better than anyone what that had done to her. She didn't want Mina to pay that same price. 

But it wasn't her choice. She may be the mentor, but her tribute didn't have to listen to her. All she could do for now was hope that Mina was right. That Sana and Momo were good people who would hesitate to hurt her. 

It sounded like a naive childlike fantasy. Jihyo hoped she was just being too cynical.

Her day was filled with worries. Meetings with potential sponsors, one or two clients, and talks with Beetee, her fellow District 3 mentor. She barely saw Mina at all after their initial talk at breakfast, and every time she caught a glimpse of her she was right next to Sana and Momo. 

By the time night fell, Jihyo was exhausted. Her body was sore, her mind was filled with fear over Mina's future, and her heart was heavy. She was grateful she had no clients lined up for the night. All she wanted was-

Nayeon. Lying on her bed with a smirk on her face. 

Despite her nerves, Jihyo felt herself relax, the tension in her muscles melting away at the sight in front of her. 

"I thought you had clients tonight."

"I rescheduled." Nayeon stretched in an exaggerated, sultry manner. "I'm selfish like that."

That was a blatant lie. Nayeon was one of the most selfless people Jihyo knew. But she didn't want to ruin this by digging too deep into whatever bargain Nayeon had struck with her sponsors. 

She quickly stripped off her clothes and threw on her pyjamas, ignoring Nayeon's teasing wolf whistle. The second she got into bed Nayeon pulled her close, hugging her tightly. Jihyo closed her eyes and breathed in Nayeon's familiar scent; mint shampoo and some sort of fruity body lotion.

For the first time since she set foot in the Capitol, Jihyo felt safe. Here in Nayeon's arms, she could give in to the beautiful illusion of peace. 

At least until she felt Nayeon's tears in her hair. She wiggled around so that she was face to face, reaching out to brush tears off Nayeon's cheeks. 

"The nightmare again?" 

Nayeon nodded, sniffling. Jihyo squeezed her shoulder, pressing her forehead gently against Nayeon's. 

There was something slightly humbling about being the one person Nayeon felt comfortable enough to fall apart around. On paper nothing about them made sense, the career tribute and the District 3 girl who'd won without a single direct kill. But that just made Jihyo more determined never to break this precious trust between them, and she knew Nayeon felt the same. 

"She was standing in front of me." Nayeon croaked out. "And she was screaming, but I couldn't hear her. I tried to get up, tried to move, but it was like I was chained to the bed. And I saw this snake winding up her leg, I tried to warn her, screamed my head off. But she didn't notice, and the snake bit her and I saw President Snow sneering at me, and then it was over."

Jihyo slipped her free hand under Nayeon's head, cradling her as she gasped and shuddered. 

"I fucking hate those kinds of nightmares." Nayeon growled. "Just give me monsters chasing me or lava pits for me to fall in. Not these realistic ones that trick my brain for a few seconds."

Jihyo couldn't help but agree. Nayeon had asked her once, the first time they slept together, if she got nightmares of her time in the arena. Jihyo had answered honestly that she didn't. 

But she did get one nasty type of reoccurring nightmare. One where she woke up in the middle of the night, alone in the bed, and saw a light on in the bathroom. She'd make her way over, step inside, and see Nayeon lying glassy-eyed in a bloody bathtub. 

If Nayeon noticed how Jihyo woke with a gasp, or how she always turned around to stare at Nayeon, to confirm she was alive and not bleeding out, she never mentioned it. The worst nights were the ones where Nayeon wasn't there with her, and Jihyo had to battle her anxiety, push it down and insist that Nayeon would never do that. She'd wrestle with her fear until morning came, and she could see Nayeon for herself, alive and well. 

It was the one fear she refused to speak out loud, refused to burden Nayeon with. Survivors guilt was bad enough without the girl you love admitting she was scared that you could one day snap. 

It was a silly fear anyway. Nayeon would never give the Capitol the satisfaction of killing her so quietly. 

She was drawn out of her thoughts as Nayeon's sobs grew quieter. Still Jihyo held her, letting her cry it all out. 

"I'm so tired." Nayeon rasped. "So tired of it all. This is the year it ends."

Jihyo's heart beat faster as Nayeon reached down to her chest, unclasping a Mockingjay pin from her shirt. Jihyo knew the story behind the pin, knew where it came from and what it symbolised to Nayeon, both personally and as a visionary. 

"Are you sure?" Jihyo was careful not to say too much, not when anyone could be listening. "Why this year?" 

"Why not?" Nayeon smirked, but the bags under her eyes made it look more weary than confident. "There are so many good tributes this year. At least one of them deserves a little good luck charm."

She pressed the pin into Jihyo's hand, gently curling Jihyo's fingers around it. 

“Why me?” Jihyo whispered. “This is your desire, why not pick the tribute yourself?”

“Because I am horribly, horribly biased.” Nayeon gave a grim chuckle. “I swore I wouldn’t be, that I’d be better than last year. That however much I saw my past self in my tribute I wouldn’t let it get to me like Jungkook did. But Chaeyoung, when I look at her I don’t see my past self. I see my present self, and that’s a lot harder to detach from.”

The first tributes were always the hardest. Jihyo wished she could have warned Nayeon last year, saved her from getting too invested. You wanted them to win, didn’t want that blood on your hands, but it was impossible to keep on going if you cared for every death like it was your own child. Jihyo had loved her first tribute, had paid the price, and had been more careful with the second.

Nayeon had seen too much of herself in the District 1 boy last year. A prodigy with a kind heart underneath all the strength and lethal training. Just like Nayeon, he’d abandoned his fellow careers early on in order to help another tribute. Unlike Nayeon, that tribute had stabbed him in the back the second they were the last two left. 

Kim Taehyung went home to District 8 and moved into the Victor’s Village beside Chungha, and three months later they found him hanging from a noose in his kitchen.

Jihyo wondered if Nayeon still hated him for what he’d done. She hated the District 4 tribute who’d killed her first charge, but last year she simply hadn’t had the energy to loathe the one who killed her tribute. Perhaps it made her a bad person, not to feel so passionately towards the girl who’s life had been in her hands. But Jihyo didn’t particularly care if anyone thought she was a bad person. As long as she was a good person in Nayeon’s eyes, then that was enough.

She spun the Mockingjay pin around in her fingers thoughtfully. Nayeon watched her, steady and certain as always. Sometimes it felt strange to remember that she was only two years out of the Games, as opposed to Jihyo’s three. Other times, like when she whispered about burning the Capitol to the ground in dark corners where no one could hear them, it made Jihyo feel far too old.

“I’ll do it.” she said. “I’ll find a tribute to give this to.”

Nayeon smiled, and kissed her.

* * *

The pin felt heavy on Jihyo’s shirt. She hadn’t seen Nayeon without it since Jeongyeon gave it to her in the arena, and now that she was wearing it, it felt… almost disrespectful. Which was ridiculous, Nayeon had given it to her. Had trusted her with it.

Jihyo knew how important this was to Nayeon. She had to choose wisely.

Sitting opposite Mina as they silently ate their breakfast, she understood fully what Nayeon meant about being biased. All she wanted was to give Mina the pin, to put her faith in Mina to survive the Games.

But the pin meant more than just survival to Nayeon. As long as Mina was allied with the Careers, Jihyo couldn’t in good conscience give the pin to her.

She’d still do her damndest to make sure Mina was the Victor. It’s why she’d arranged the alliance in the first place. She’d assess the situation logically, give the pin to the best candidate, and then pray that they would die and that Mina would win.

Mentors weren’t allowed in the training room, but District 3 had always been good with technology. Jihyo herself usually had no interest in monitoring the training intensely, but she knew her fellow mentor liked to use it as an advantage.

“Beetee.” She knocked once on his door. “I need to borrow your scroll. Just for an hour.”

The door opened, and the middle aged man blinked owlishly at her, his glasses tilted slightly askew on his face.

“Why?”

“Doing someone a favour.”

His eyes strayed down to the pin on her shirt. He stood back to let her in.

“So this is the year?”

Jihyo focused on the tablet he gave her. The screen showed three camera feeds directly from the training room. She could see every single tribute working at their different stations. Her eyes immediately went to Mina first. She was giggling as she sat on Momo’s back while the District 2 girl did push-ups. Sana was watching them, and as far as Jihyo could tell she was smiling. 

She swallowed down the lump in her throat and answered Beetee.

“Yes. Nayeon asked me to pick.”

“That seems wise.”

Jihyo tore her eyes away from Mina, looking instead at Nayeon’s tribute. Son Chaeyoung. She was next to Chou Tzuyu at the archery station, firing arrows. Tzuyu seemed to be hitting the target more accurately, but Chaeyoung didn’t look upset at that. The camera was far away, but she seemed to be smiling slightly.

Jihyo thought about what Nayeon had told her last night. Everything she knew about Son Chaeyoung made her a spiritually ideal candidate for the pin. She hated the Capitol, she had no interest in playing their Games, and she was a strong fighter. All good reasons to give her the pin.

She was also the one person the Gamemakers definitely wanted dead. That was likely what stopped Nayeon from handing her the pin. Chaeyoung wasn’t just fighting against the other tributes, she was fighting against the Games themselves. And unfortunately for her, the people in charge didn’t like that.

Jihyo wanted to give her the pin. But if there was a better candidate… one who was more likely to survive, then that was who she had to choose.

“Beetee.” she glanced up at him. “What do you think about Nayeon and her… feelings?”

He blinked at her, pushing up his glasses and glancing from side to side, as if expecting guards to rush in at any second. Jihyo knew better than that by now. She and Nayeon had figured out last year that while the Capitol may be monitoring everything, they wouldn’t pay special attention to anything that didn’t trigger their system with key words. Speaking openly about wanting to rebel or defying the Capitol was an easy and foolish way to get their attention. Avoiding such words made it a lot less likely that they would pay you much mind.

“I think…” he hummed contemplatively. “I think that I am far too old and worn to try and stand in her way. If she wants to improve her life then why would I try and fight against her?”

Jihyo’s lips twitched into a smile. She could easily point out that the existence of the scroll contradicted his words, but she didn’t bother. Instead she turned her eyes back to the video, observing the other trainees. Chou Tzuyu, Kim Dahyun, Lee Minho, they all had potential.

But only one could be the Victor.

Settling herself back comfortably in Beetee’s bed, she began to tally up the odds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: Evaluations and interviewers are conducted. The countdown to the Games is almost at it's end


	5. Chapter 5

The private training sessions were today. 

Tzuyu wasn't nervous. She was hopeful she would get a good score and if not then… It didn't really matter. Less sponsors probably, but she wasn't expecting many sponsors either way. District 8 won last year, and then the Victor killed themself. It was a bad reputation for Tzuyu to walk into, but at least she had some decent skills to show the Gamemakers. 

The other two were nervous, she could tell. She knew the Capitol hated Chaeyoung, which had both Nayeon and Chaeyoung worried that she'd get a low score despite her skills. As for Dahyun, she was District 12. Apparently the Gamemakers got bored by the end of the sessions, so unless she had something spectacular to show them it would be hard for her to get a high score. 

Tzuyu had hope for both of them. Chaeyoung was skilled with a sword; she deserved a high score. And Dahyun was full of surprises. Tzuyu was certain she could come up with something to snatch the Gamemakers’s attention. 

She shuffled from foot to foot idly as the elevator made its way down through the building. Chungha had left a note telling Tzuyu and Minho that she’d meet them in front of the training room. Minho had left early, but Tzuyu had taken her time to enjoy her breakfast. She wouldn’t be late, and she wasn’t as nervous as him, where too much food would just make her throw up.

Fourth floor. No one got in. The careers were probably up early too. She hoped Minho wasn’t alone downstairs with them.

Third floor. The door opened, and three girls entered. Mina, Sana and Momo, all with messy hair.

Huh. Judging by Mina’s deer in the headlights look she hadn’t been expecting to run into Tzuyu. Tzuyu did her best to avoid making eye contact. No need to make this even more awkward than it already was.

Unfortunately, Mina seemed too nervous to let it slide.

“We weren’t-” she stopped and bit her lip before starting again. “We didn’t sleep together. I mean, I didn’t sleep with them. I just w-”

“It’s fine Mina.” Sana’s voice was softer than Tzuyu had ever heard. “You don’t owe her an explanation.”

There was a warning in Sana’s eyes that Tzuyu acknowledged with a subtle nod.

“She’s right.” she said. “You don’t owe me anything.”

Mina’s shoulders drooped, and she gave Tzuyu a fleeting nervous smile. Momo reached out to place a hand on her shoulder, while Sana smiled at them both fondly.

Tzuyu’s heart ached. Just a bit. It was nice, that children raised to slaughter other children for fame and glory could still find someone they cared for. Tzuyu just wished she could experience that too. Maybe stay the night with Chaeyoung or Dahyun, but she didn’t think either of them would be comfortable with that.

They reached the first floor. Tzuyu let the trio get out first before following. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust them, except… Yeah it was. She trusted them to be more civilised than their district counterparts, but Sana and Momo were still dangerous.

Yet apparently Mina felt safe enough to sleep in the same room as them. And judging from the soft looks they sent her, she wasn’t taking a massive risk in doing so. Whatever they had, Tzuyu didn’t understand it, but she could respect it. 

Her mind went to Chaeyoung as they approached the District 1 living quarters. She was someone else Tzuyu barely understood but respected a lot. So different from everything Tzuyu had known, but it was that uniqueness that captivated Tzuyu, kept her hooked no matter what Chaeyoung was doing.

The District 1 door opened, and Chaeyoung and Dahyun shuffled out. Chaeyoung had the same messy bedhead as MIna, and Dahyun was blinking sleep out of her eyes.

Tzuyu’s heart sank.

She tried to keep her face calm, to not show how strangely hurt she felt. But judging from Momo’s sympathetic smile, she wasn’t successful. At all.

Wonderful.

“Tzuyu.” Dahyun and Chaeyoung wore matching wide eyed guilty expressions, and Tzuyu would have found them adorable if it wasn’t for the context.

“It’s fine.” She was proud of how calm she sounded. “What you two do together is your own personal business.”

She wanted them to protest, to try and explain, but they just stood there, looking sad and uncomfortable. The door opened again, and Nayeon came out, a scowl on her face.

“Good morning Tzuyu. Thank you for not sneaking into Chaeyoung’s room last night. I had enough on my plate with Haymitch ringing me and yelling because Dahyun was missing.”

“She couldn’t sleep well!” Chaeyoung protested. “I was just trying to-”

“Save it.” Nayeon ruffled Chaeyoung’s hair harshly. “Get down to the training center. You’re the first one up.”

There was a bitter taste still on Tzuyu’s tongue, but it faded on the walk over to the training center. Dahyun looked so nervous, and Chaeyoung so hopeless, that despite the strange feeling of hurt inside her, she wanted to cheer them up. 

“You’re going to do fine.” she said, the bitterness on her tongue turning to firm steel. “You’ve both got talent, the Gamemakers would be dumb to ignore that.”

“Thanks Tzu.” Dahyun smiled and hesitantly reached out her hand.

Tzuyu took it immediately, only afterwards wondering why. Wasn’t she supposed to be hurt? When she saw friends fighting in school they always seemed to sulk a lot afterwards.

This feelings thing was complicated. Or maybe she was just bad at friendship.

They reached the training centre. The other tributes were milling around outside, all various shades of pale and tense. Chaeyoung grimaced at the door, and Tzuyu was struck again by this overwhelming wave of emotion.

She wanted Chaeyoung to do well. She wanted her to get the best score possible, even better than Tzuyu’s own. She wanted…

She wanted Chaeyoung to win.

What was that?

“Hey.” Dahyun’s voice grounded her, dragged her out of her panicked mind. “You ok?”

“Fine.” Tzuyu lied, unable to tear her eyes off Chaeyoung’s face. “Just nervous.”

“You’ll do great.” Dahyun’s hand was warm in hers, and Tzuyu wanted to cry. “You’re an archery prodigy right? You’re going to blow them all away.”

“Yeah.” Tzuyu said, voice slightly steadier. “Thanks Dahyun.”

“No problem.” And now Dahyun was the nervous one. “About last night, it wasn’t something we planned. I was going to just leave and go to my room but I was getting such bad nightmares that I figured I might as well ask Chaeyoung if I could sleep in her room. If you were still there with us I would have wanted you to come too.”

Tzuyu couldn’t tell if she was being honest or not. There was no way of knowing if this was just an attempt to soothe Tzuyu’s hurt feelings, or if Dahyun genuinely meant it. All Tzuyu could do was choose what to believe.

The smart thing to do was to be cynical. She could be cynical towards the Capitol, towards her mentor, towards Minho. 

But despite how foolish it was, she didn’t want to be cynical towards Dahyun.

So she chose to believe her.

The door opened, and an Avox servant walked out. She signalled to Chaeyoung, who balled her hands into fists. Dahyun and Tzuyu both moved closer to her, then hesitated once they noticed the other doing the same.

“Hey.” Nayeon put her hands on Chaeyoung’s shoulders. “Remember everything I said about appeasing the Gamemakers? Fuck that. For this assessment, you go with your gut and do whatever the hell you want.”

“You sure?” Chaeyoung looked surprised.

“Absolutely.” Nayeon pushed her gently forward. “They’re going to do whatever they want this time regardless of how nice you play. So just this once, go wild.”

The grin on Chaeyoung’s face made Tzuyu’s heart flutter.

She couldn’t hide it anymore, could no longer deny it, not that she’d been doing such a great job of that in the first place. She didn’t just want Chaeyoung to do well. She wanted her to win.

She wanted Dahyun to win too, the same way Tzuyu wanted to win herself. With Dahyun it was easier, because she was fighting for the same thing Tzuyu was. Both of them wanted to survive, so it felt safe to love her, and to leave it up to luck and skill for one of them to survive.

But Chaeyoung. Chaeyoung had a family. Chaeyoung had passion, and a hatred for the system. Chaeyoung had so much more to lose compared to Tzuyu and Dahyun. Every time she imagined Chaeyoung dying, she didn’t just see herself and Dahyun crying. She saw Chaeyoung’s parents, her brother, just like she described them. She saw Nayeon, angry and hollow eyed. She saw the escort who had sneered with his eyes at her on the train, and imagined that smugness reinforced with Chaeyoung’s death. That was what happened to people who didn’t bow down to the Capitol, it was her parents’ fault for not teaching her better.

Tzuyu might have agreed, before. Now the very thought was repugnant.

If it were just her and Dahyun, Tzuyu didn’t know what would happen if they were the last two left. They’d probably split up, and try to survive in the Arena as long as possible until one of them died. Or maybe Dahyun would kill her, but Tzuyu didn’t think so.

But if it were Chaeyoung and Tzuyu left…

She should be thinking the same. Split up and leave it to fate. She shouldn’t be thinking about taking a handful of berries and swallowing them, before Chaeyoung could have time to stop her.

Tzuyu wanted to win. She also didn’t want Chaeyoung to lose, and somewhere along the way those desires had switched in importance.

It was terrifying. But curiously enough, the clarity of it all made her feel at peace. Like a calm wave had washed over her, taking all the anxiety and confusion and leaving only acceptance, just like when her name was called back in District 8. Back then, she’d known what she was fighting for. There was nothing to be done except try to survive. 

Now, the goal had changed. And she had finally come to accept her new fight.

She was going to keep Chaeyoung alive, no matter what.

* * *

Dahyun knew she could have done better. She definitely wouldn’t be getting above a nine. But the Gamemakers had looked mildly impressed as she swung through the room, throwing in a few flashy acrobatics to keep their attention. At one point she’d almost slipped, too used to climbing practically instead of showing off. But thankfully, they hadn’t seemed to notice.

Now all that was left was the wait. She and Tzuyu decided to slip up to the rooftop to pass the time. Chaeyoung had been occupied, since Nayeon had been incredibly stressed once she found out what Chaeyoung had done.

_ “You threw a  _ knife  _ at them?” _

_ “Technically it was a sword.” Chaeyoung’s grin was utterly unrepentant. “I tried just showing my skills with the practice dummies but they kept laughing among themselves and sneering at me. So I thought I should give them a more personal demonstration.” _

_ “Oh my god.” Nayeon put her head in her hands. “They’re going to kill you.” _

_ “You said go wild!” Chaeyoung protested. “And I didn’t even hurt them. It just hit the wall behind them.” _

_ “I thought you would just… I don’t know. Curse at them, or refuse to perform or something.” Nayeon sighed. “But you’re right. I told you to go wild. They would have hated you no matter what. I don’t know how they’ll retaliate but for tonight you stay right next to me. No wandering off alone, understand?” _

_ That question had been addressed to all three of them, Dahyun and Tzuyu hovering awkwardly behind Chaeyoung as she recounted her session to Nayeon. They nodded quickly, and Dahyun smiled at Chaeyoung’s sulky pout.  _

_ Dahyun had planned to stay with Chaeyoung for the night, but Nayeon was clearly so stressed that she felt bad just for being there. Chaeyoung squeezed her hand after a little while, and Dahyun understood. _

_ “We’ll come back down for the results.” she said. “Tzuyu, rooftop?” _

_ Tzuyu glanced at Chaeyoung, and Dahyun felt her curiosity spike at the strange look in Tzuyu’s eyes. But it was a fleeting thing, and a second later she nodded and stood up. _

_ “We’ll keep each other safe.” Tzuyu promised Nayeon, who looked at them worriedly but made no effort to stop them leaving. _

_ Dahyun heard her start to mutter to Chaeyoung as soon as the door was closed. She wished her mentor would be anywhere near as sharp and dedicated as Nayeon. Haymitch could be a lot worse, but he didn’t care about Dahyun the way Nayeon clearly did about Chaeyoung.  _

_ Tzuyu slipped her hand into Dahyun’s as they waited for the elevator, and Dahyun smiled. At least she had someone who cared. _

“I have something to tell you.”

Dahyun bit back a smile as Tzuyu’s words drew her out of the memory. She was proud of how well she was getting to know Tzuyu, since she could tell the younger girl was pensive tonight. To a stranger her face would have looked as blank as usual, but there were a few things that clued Dahyun in. The tight line of her mouth, the way she was facing the city and not staring softly at Dahyun, how she had both her arms and legs crossed as she sat.

Dahyun had always been good at analysing people. When she first met Tzuyu, she thought that it would be a challenge to learn how she ticked. But Tzuyu had turned out surprisingly easy, at least on a surface level. It was as if the girl had given Dahyun full access at the smallest of prompting, like she  _ wanted  _ someone to be able to understand her.

Or maybe Dahyun was reading too much into it, still trying to digest how casually Tzuyu had spoken those words last night.  _ I love you,  _ like it was the simplest thing in the world.

“What’s up, Tzu?”

Tzuyu looked down, one finger drawing circles into the concrete rooftop.

“It’s about the Games.” She finally looked at Dahyun, her gaze somehow more intense than usual. “I’m not going to win them. I’m going to make Chaeyoung win instead.”

Of all the things Dahyun had been expecting to hear, that wasn’t one of them.

Tzuyu hadn’t spoken much about winning the Games, but the understanding between all three of them was that they were fighting to win, and that the alliance was nothing more than a means to achieve that. Even with the extra feelings Dahyun had unfortunately developed for both her friends, it was still ultimately just that. But now Tzuyu was saying something else. Something far more dangerous.

“So what, you’re just going to die?” Dahyun gave a nervous chuckle, wincing internally at her own panicked reaction.

“Of course not.” Tzuyu frowned. “I’m going to keep Chaeyoung safe, and kill as many of her enemies as possible. And then when it’s just the two of us, I’m going to die. So that she can win, and go home to her family.”

Dahyun swallowed down the lump in her throat, and pushed the thousand questions swarming around her mind to the side, in order to focus on the most important one.

“What about me?” She tried not to sound too accusatory. “Will you kill me too, if it’s just the three of us?”

“Of course not.” Tzuyu’s eyes flashed. “I love you just as much as I love her. I’m not killing either of you.”

“But Chaeyoung is the one you’re saving.” 

“Yes.”

Dahyun couldn’t help the scoff she let out at that, unable to handle what Tzuyu was telling her. This was all too much, too sudden. It didn’t make  _ sense. _

Except it did. When she thought of all the conversations she’d had with Tzuyu, all the soft adoring looks she’d seen Tzuyu give both her and Chaeyoung. Tzuyu was tall, and had a coldly beautiful face. But she wasn’t cold at all. She was a warm, loving child, and Dahyun pitied her terribly.

“So what happens if it’s the three of us left?” Dahyun said dully. “What will you do then Tzuyu?”

“I’m not sure.” Tzuyu admitted quietly. “I suppose, part of the reason I told you was that I was hoping you’d see my perspective… and maybe help me.”

“Help you.” Dahyun said flatly. “You mean sacrifice myself so that Chaeyoung will win.”

“I mean help me keep her alive, and help me make her the Victor. If that means both of us jump off a cliff at the end so that she can win, well there’s no one else I’d rather die alongside.”

It was insane. Ludicrous. Of course part of her wanted Chaeyoung to win, to go home to her family and to defy the Capitol. But the only reason Dahyun had been able to keep going was through sheer determination and belief that  _ she  _ could win. That the girl from District 12 with no family and no violent skills could somehow survive and outlast the 23 other tributes. 

And now Tzuyu was asking her to throw all that away, like it was the easiest thing in the world.

“I know it’s not a simple request.” It was as if Tzuyu was reading her mind. “But think about it Dahyun. I know there’s nothing else out there for me. I love you, and I love Chaeyoung. And if I win, both of you are dead, and chances are I become another drug addict slowly killing myself on the slim chance that we’ll somehow be reunited in the afterlife.”

She hated that she could see where Tzuyu was coming from, the cold logic that deemed Chaeyoung’s life as more valuable than theirs, based on how much she meant to others. It was the logic Dahyun had fought against her whole life.

“I can’t do it.” she said. “I’m sorry Tzuyu, I really am. But… I don’t want to die.”

Her voice broke on that last word. There were tears in her eyes, and she wasn’t sure why. Tzuyu reached over to take her hand, and only then did Dahyun notice she was trembling.

“It’s alright.” Tzuyu said softly. “I didn’t expect you to agree. Your life is just as precious and valuable to me as hers is. But I just need you to know. That I’m not a threat to you at all anymore. If Chaeyoung dies, then I’ll make sure you win. And if you die, then I’ll make sure she wins. That’s all there is to it, really.”

Something inside Dahyun began to bubble up, a desire to reach across and shake Tzuyu.  _ Your life matters too!  _ Dahyun wanted to scream.  _ You’re worth something even if no one in the whole universe loves you! _

But she couldn’t. Because Tzuyu had to die for Dahyun to win, and strategically, it was better for her if Tzuyu was suicidal.

Really, she was the perfect type of suicidal too. She wasn’t going to kill herself at the first opportunity. She wasn’t going to be a liability. She would fight to live, but only to protect them. 

It was sick. Dahyun hated that she could think like this. Like the Capitol wanted her to.

If Tzuyu noticed the shame in her eyes, she didn’t mention it.

“Come on.” Tzuyu pulled her up gently. “It’s almost time for the results.”

* * *

Nayeon gently pushed Chaeyoung’s hand away from her mouth. Chaeyoung cringed, balling her hands into fists. Biting her nails when nervous was a habit she’d never been able to fully shake.

“It’s going to be ok kiddo.” Nayeon said, ruffling Chaeyoung’s hair far more gently than she had that morning. “We knew the odds were against you all along. Whatever the result is doesn’t change where we stand.”

“Here we go.” Dahyun muttered, as the Panem logo flashed on screen.

First up was her District partner. He scored an eight, surprisingly low. Chaeyoung swallowed down bile as her own image appeared on screen. A second later, a number flashed below it.

Twelve.

“What the hell?” Chaeyoung slumped back in her seat, and Nayeon gripped her hand tighter.

For a moment, no one spoke. The broadcast moved on to District 2. The boy there scored a ten.

“That’s the highest score possible right?” Tzuyu asked. “Why would they do that?”

“To put a target on her back.” Dahyun replied dully. “Now every single tribute in the arena is going to be after her.”

“Well.” Nayeon clapped her hands together. “Honestly, I was expecting a two or a one. A twelve is something I can work with. The best out of a bunch of bad options in my opinion.”

“You think the Capitol misjudged this?” Chaeyoung asked.

“I think they’ve misjudged everything, but yes. Their goal is to get you killed off as quickly as possible. Provided you survive, that score should help me get you sponsors.”

Momo got an eight. Sana got a nine. Chaeyoung tapped her finger against the armrest of the chair, watching the numbers flash by.

“So that’s good then. My score.”

“It’s…” Nayeon sighed. “It’s the best we could have hoped for.”

Tzuyu’s photo came up. Chaeyoung leaned forward, noticing how Dahyun did the same. The number flashed up on the screen.

Nine.

“Nine!” Chaeyoung cheered. “Nice one Tzuyu.”

Tzuyu stared at Chaeyoung, her face slowly morphing into a large smile.

“Thank you.” she said. “I’m happy for both of us.”

“Me too.” Dahyun chimed in. “Although it does suck for me. There’s no way all three of us will get that lucky.”

“Luck has nothing to do with it.” Nayeon cut across her. “If you showed your skills, they’ll grade you accordingly.”

Dahyun was the very last tribute to be shown. By the time her picture came up, Chaeyoung’s hand had somehow drifted into Dahyun’s left hand, and Tzuyu’s into Dahyun’s right. They both held tight as the score came up.

One.

For a second, no one said anything. Then Chaeyoung exploded.

“What?” Chaeyoung shot up. “What the hell? Why would they-”

“Damn.” Dahyun tried to laugh it off, but no one was buying it. “Clearly my climbing skills sucked more than I thought.”

Realisation struck Chaeyoung, and she sunk back into the couch.

“It’s my fault.” she whispered.

“What?” Dahyun frowned. “It’s not your fault I failed to impress them.”

“They know we’re allies. They must know I care about you. And this is how they’re punishing me for the stunt earlier. The high score for me was just half of it.”

“She’s right.” Nayeon said. “Even the worst tributes normally get a two or a three. This was deliberate, and the only reason I can think that they’d want you to suffer is because of your alliance with Chaeyoung. It’s a warning.”

“They want to try and break us up?” Dahyun grinned, still shaky. “That’s a bit mean when we haven’t even gone on our first date.”

“Dahyun I’m so sorry.” Chaeyoung felt her eyes start to water. “I should have never thrown that sword at them. I should have just-”

“Hey.” Dahyun reached out to brush a tear off Chaeyoung’s cheek. “You couldn’t have known this would happen. Besides, I think it’s kind of neat. Me with the one and you with the twelve. We match.”

Chaeyoung let out a watery laugh, shaking her head. Dahyun’s spirit was truly something precious. Clearly she was just as upset about this as Chaeyoung was, but she wasn’t going to let it show, and Chaeyoung respected that.

She glanced behind Dahyun to see Tzuyu watching them, a distant, undecipherable look in her eyes.

One problem at a time. Chaeyoung would let that one go until tomorrow.

* * *

“So.” Nayeon pressed her hands together. “After discussing with the other mentors, we’ve agreed that the best way to make you appeal to the Capitol is to give you a romance storyline.”

Chaeyoung choked on her scone. Dahyun thumped her on the back until she could speak again.

“I’m sorry.” Chaeyoung coughed. “But...what?” 

Tzuyu paused from nibbling on her toast, glancing up at the glares being sent back and forth from opposite ends of the table. Chaeyoung wasn’t a fan of romance then. No surprise there.

“Your friendship is cute.” Nayeon waved a hand dismissively. “But last year a District 1 tribute did the whole friendship with a poor district thing. Repeating that runs the risk of boring the audience.”

“Wouldn’t want that.” Chaeyoung rolled her eyes.

“Exactly. So what you need to do is decide amongst yourselves which two we’re going to spin as a romance, and which one will be the third wheel.”

“Can’t we just date each other? All three of us?”

Tzuyu didn’t expect Dahyun to ask that. Why would she want to date Tzuyu? Even for a fictional narrative. Chaeyoung was by far the more appealing option.

“The Capitol won’t care that you’re both girls, but three girls in love and in a relationship is a bit too much for all of them to wrap their heads around. We want to reel in as many supporters as possible, and the natural bond you have developed is the best way to do it. So!” Nayeon clapped her hands. “Whichever duo can spin this romance to make it the most believable, you two should get up on stage tonight and proclaim your love for the whole of Panem to see.”

It was easy for Tzuyu to say it. The words slipped out before she had time to hesitate.

“It should be Dahyun and Chaeyoung.”

They all turned to look at her. She kept her gaze steady on Nayeon.

“Chaeyoung got the best score, and Dahyun is the best at public speaking. She could charm the crowd in a way I can’t. I don’t think I’ll be able to act well anyways. I wouldn’t know how to show the world I’m in love.”

“No.” Chaeyoung said firmly, surprising Tzuyu again. “I can’t do it. I can’t go up there, take what I feel for Dahyun, and pervert it for the Capitol. I won’t.”

“Could you do it?” Nayeon turned to look at Dahyun.

“I…” Dahyun looked at Chaeyoung, then Tzuyu, who nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, I could. If I had to.”

“Great. Because you do.” Nayeon turned her attention back to Tzuyu and Chaeyoung. “So far, I’m inclined to agree with Tzuyu. Chaeyoung is from District 1 and she got a 12 in her score. She’s the more appealing candidate.”

“But what about Tzuyu?” Chaeyoung shot back. “Are we supposed to pretend like we care about each other more than we care about her?”

“Of course.” Nayeon said, not missing a beat. “The audience loves a good romance. You can care about them equally all you want, but tonight you’re getting up on stage and convincing the world that Dahyun is your soulmate, and Tzuyu’s just a friend.”

Chaeyoung slumped back in her chair. Neither she nor Dahyun looked at all happy with that.

Tzuyu felt that strange sense of peace again. This was bad for her, but that was alright.

She’d gotten what she wanted.

There was no training that day, just a full day of preparation for the interview. There was barely time to breathe between all the work the stylists were doing, but somehow Tzuyu found a moment to sneak off to the bathroom.

She wasn’t expecting to see the District 3 mentor there. Tzuyu tried to wash her hands without making eye contact, but Jihyo marched right over to her. 

Tzuyu racked her brains for all the information she had on Jihyo. Mina’s mentor, sleeping with Nayeon according to Chaeyoung, not to be trusted according to Chaeyoung and also common sense.

Still no explanation as to why she wanted to talk to Tzuyu.

“Do you have a Tribute token?”

“I’m sorry?” Tzuyu turned to face her.

“A Tribute token.” Jihyo repeated. “Like a lucky charm. Something from home, to carry with you into the Arena.”

“Oh.” Tzuyu said. “No. I don’t.”

Jihyo held out her hand, a shiny gold pin in it. Tzuyu recognised the bird on the emblem. A Mockingjay.

“Here.” Jihyo said. “Take this, for luck.”

Tzuyu did not take it. She stared at Jihyo, trying to understand what was happening.

“Why not give it to Mina?”

Jihyo’s smile flickered.

“Mina’s a smart girl.” she said. “But this pin isn’t meant for her. It’s meant for you.”

“Will it blow up when I’m in the Games?”

That made Jihyo’s smile flicker again, but lighter this time.

“No.” she said. “It’s just a symbol of good fortune. A tradition to be passed down. I swear to you that I mean no harm by giving it to you.”

Tzuyu still didn’t want to take it. But Jihyo didn’t look like she was going to accept no for an answer, so Tzuyu reluctantly reached out and took the pin. Jihyo watched as she pinned it to her shirt, and Tzuyu was even more confused by the sad look in her eyes.

“Good luck.” Jihyo said, and then she left.

Tzuyu took a minute to dry her hands. Then she tentatively poked the pin.

When she didn’t immediately blow up, she figured it was safe to go back outside and finish getting ready.

* * *

The interview had gone well.

Despite her reluctance, Chaeyoung had played her part to perfection. They’d decided to leave the bulk of the heavy lifting to Dahyun, so all she had to do was create the set up. Park Jinyoung had given her plenty of chances throughout the interview, and Dahyun had watched with no small measure of pride as Chaeyoung talked about how much Tzuyu and Dahyun had come to mean to her. The majority of it was clearly based in sincerity, but there was this special emphasis that she placed on Dahyun. Park Jinyoung had picked up on it just as quickly as Dahyun had, and had proceeded to tease her about her “crush”. Chaeyoung had done an excellent job giggling and laughing and looking embarrassed, even though Dahyun had no doubt she was dying on the inside.

Tzuyu’s had been decent as well. Dahyun had been proud of how well she’d handled herself, despite how clearly uncomfortable she was up on stage. The interviewer had done well to play off her stilted answers, causing it to be humorous and cute instead of awkward. Dahyun was impressed, and very happy for Tzuyu’s sake.

Finally, there was her. And much like her climbing skills, this was something Dahyun knew she would excel in. She traded banter back and forth with Park Jinyoung until the audience was roaring and laughing, brushed the evaluation score off like it was a comical accident. There was no way she was going to impress the sponsors with her score, so all that was left was to make herself as likeable as possible. If that meant being the class clown, then so be it.

The talk about Chaeyoung went perfectly as well. Jinyoung brought up Chaeyoung’s coyness around the topic, and Dahyun had gone quiet and serious. It was an easy mask to fake, one of emotional vulnerability. Not to people who knew her well, but to these strangers? Child’s play.

She let it all out. Her sob story childhood, how she’d bonded with Tzuyu because of that, how she’d felt drawn to Chaeyoung, how they’d slept together, how she thought she was in love. She embellished the details somewhat, spun their first meeting as a romantic courtship, their moments of bonding as sweet instead of tragic. In the end, the audience was teary eyed and sniffling.

Dahyun didn’t give a damn about them, or Park Jinyoung and his crocodile tears. Her eyes went straight to the wings at the edge of the stage, where Chaeyoung and Tzuyu were watching her. 

Tzuyu smiled, and Dahyun felt a weight settle on her heart. Chaeyoung didn’t smile, but she nodded, and that was enough.

Now here they were, the final night together on the rooftop. Chaeyoung had dozed off in Tzuyu’s lap, and Tzuyu sat stroking her hair reverently, humming a lullaby Dahyun didn’t recognise.

Dahyun looked at Chaeyoung, and thought about everything she’d said earlier. She thought about how much of it was true, and how much of it had been fake.

Chaeyoung grumbled in her sleep, and Tzuyu smiled, adjusting her legs to keep the other girl comfortable.

She loved them. Dahyun loved them both.

That was the truth. There were no cameras, no one to perform to. There was just her, the girls she loved, and the truth between them.

“Tzuyu.” she whispered.

Tzuyu’s head shot up to look at her. She was always so attentive. Dahyun loved that about her.

“I don’t want to die.” she said.

“Me neither.” Tzuyu replied.

“I want to win.”

“So do I.”

There were tears on Dahyun’s cheeks now. She didn’t understand why.

False. She understood exactly why.

“You’re really going to do it? You’re going to fight everyone just to die? To let Chaeyoung win?”

“If both of you die, and I live…” Tzuyu shrugged, a sad smile on her face. “I’m as good as dead anyway. Better to die with a purpose, doing something meaningful, then wither away after years rotting in loneliness.”

“Yeah.” Dahyun whispered. “I get what you mean.”

They were quiet again for a moment. Tzuyu broke the silence this time.

“It’s so hard.” she sighed. “I’ve fought so long, just to survive. And now I have something worth living for, instead of just surviving. But the price to keep even one of you alive is my death. It’s not  _ fair. _ ”

“It’s really not.”

“But those are the choices I’ve been given. And it hurts, even now I’m terrified of dying. But I’m more scared of Chaeyoung dying, of you dying. I want to be the first to go, even if it’s selfish.”

“I understand that.” Dahyun whispered back. “I wish I didn’t. I wish I didn’t feel the way I did about you both. But I do, and I can’t…”

“Fight it anymore?”

“Yeah.” Dahyun looked down at Chaeyoung. “I want her to win. I don’t want to die, but I want her to win. And look, I can’t promise anything huge. I’m too scared for that. But if you’re fighting to keep her alive, then I’ll do the same. I won’t abandon you or break the alliance, no matter what happens. You matter to me. A lot.”

“And if it’s just the three of us left?”

Dahyun couldn’t answer that. The words went against every single one of her survival instincts, everything she’d suffered and overcome in order to keep breathing. But she felt them, she felt them right in her chest, and she knew the truth even if she couldn’t say it.

Tzuyu seemed to know too. She didn’t ask Dahyun any more questions. Just sat with her, singing, until Dahyun felt her eyes begin to droop.

* * *

Chaeyoung woke up with every inch of her body buzzing.

Her nerves felt like they were on fire. Not even Nayeon’s comforting arm around her shoulder could soothe the anxiety she felt. Today was the day she would have to fight for her life. The beginning of the end.

She walked through the halls of the centre in a daze, but when Nayeon guided her outside and she saw the train waiting for them, her heels dug into the concrete. She turned around, desperately searching for Dahyun and Tzuyu. 

They were there, and they saw her. Ignoring their mentors yelling, they ran over to her. Chaeyoung grabbed their hands, brought them to her lips and kissed them. It was all she had time to do, but it steadied her. She hoped they understood.

Then she was ushered onto a train, and there was nothing but dark tunnels and silence.

When the train stopped, Nayeon stood up. Chaeyoung didn’t want to, but she let Nayeon pull her up out of the seat. Nayeon pushed her towards the exit, not stepping outside herself.

“Good luck kiddo.” she whispered.

It sounded like she was crying. Chaeyoung didn’t look back to check. If she saw Nayeon crying, she had a feeling that would be it for her. She’d run away screaming and sobbing in fear, until the Capitol shot her down.

Two guards escorted her into a small room underground. Her stylist was waiting there for her, for some reason. Chaeyoung hadn’t had much interaction with Minji, but it was comforting to have someone other than stone faced guards as she stepped into the elevator.

The glass door shut behind her. Minji gave her a sympathetic smile as the elevator began to rise. Chaeyoung forced herself not to cry, or to scream. She had to keep a level head, focus on getting supplies and getting Tzuyu and Dahyun out of the bloodbath safely.

The elevator stopped moving, but the podium kept rising. 

Chaeyoung braced herself, and the Games began.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: Oh Tzuyu we're really in it now.


	6. Chapter 6

Tzuyu had a plan. A secret one that she hadn't told anyone about. 

She’d only started forming it after the training evaluations. Before that, she thought their main strategy would suffice. Stick together, protect each other. Simple and straightforward.

But after the evaluation scores were revealed, she realised something crucial. Dahyun and Chaeyoung were both massive targets, and she was not. The career tributes would be hunting the weakest and the biggest threat, not the girl who was merely a decent shot with a bow and arrow.

So unbeknownst to anyone else, Tzuyu’s strategy had shifted. Going into the arena, the careers were the biggest threat to their lives. If they found themselves in deadly terrain, then she would stick close to the other two in order to protect them. But if they found themselves in an environment that Tzuyu knew Dahyun could survive well in…

Then she’d separate from them, and make herself the biggest target, force the careers to focus on her somehow.

And then she’d kill them off, one by one, until it was safe to reunite with Dahyun and Chaeyoung again.

It was risky, Tzuyu knew. Not being there to protect them every second meant that there were a bunch of random ways they could die. But if she went with them, then the careers would be chasing them every second of the Games, until they grew tired and had to fight. And while Chaeyoung was a master with a sword, it was still three against five. 

So she had to come up with a better strategy. And this was the best one she could think of.

As the platform slowly rose, exposing Tzuyu to a harsh bright light, she squinted through it, struggling to see her surroundings. It seemed unnaturally bright, more glaring than the ordinary sun. It was only when the podium was halfway to the top, with her torso fully above ground, that she realised why.

Ice. One half of the entire arena was pure ice. It stretched as far as Tzuyu could see, sometimes swelling up in peaks and dips. Half the tributes were positioned in a semicircle on the ice, and they looked very pale at the thought of sprinting across it to reach the weapons.

Tzuyu wasn’t too happy with it herself, but the other half of the arena helped calm her bubbling fear. It was made up of dense woodlands, ominous and gloomy. Yet it gave her hope, because if there was any environment where Dahyun would have an advantage, it was this one.

As soon as she’d gotten her bearings, her eyes immediately began searching for Chaeyoung and Dahyun. Chaeyoung was four podiums across from her, near the ice. Dahyun was two podiums beside that one, right next to where the ice started. Her face was more grim and serious than Tzuyu had ever seen.

The countdown began, and Tzuyu pulled her eyes away to scour the equipment littered across the ground in front of them. Nearest to her was a small rucksack, which would come in handy. But what she really needed was a weapon. 

She finally located a bow and arrow. It was halfway between her and Sana, next to a boy she didn’t recognise. He seemed to be eyeing the sword to his left, which made Tzuyu more tempted to risk going for the bow. None of the careers were focused on it, all looking right at the Cornucopia. 

“ _ 40, 39, 38…” _

Reality hit her, just for a second. She was about to murder a bunch of children, because the goverment forced them to fight to the death. She felt bile rise in her throat, felt tears prick her eyes, felt all the horror and hopelessness of the current situation.

_ “27, 26, 25…” _

Then she pushed it all down, and focused on the bow and the rucksack.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Dahyun and Chaeyoung signalling to each other with their eyes, silently communicating what supplies to grab and which way to run. They tried to connect with Tzuyu too, but she avoided their gazes, focusing solely on the items she’d set her sights on.

The countdown ended and the gong rang out.

What had once been a still, quiet field, suddenly erupted into motion and chaos. Tzuyu didn’t let it stun her, sprinting straight for the bow and arrow. She snatched the rucksack up on her way, dodging past an unarmed tribute who tried to grab her hair. The boy she’d been worried about, she thought he was from District 11, grabbed the sword and ran, leaving Tzuyu free to snatch the bow and arrow.

A scream sounded across the arena. Tzuyu had never heard that scream before, but somehow she knew instinctively who it belonged to. Chaeyoung, scrambling across the ground, holding a shield up as the District 1 boy closed in on her. Dahyun was right there next to her, struggling to pick Chaeyoung up so that they could both run. Tzuyu’s heart sank when she saw the red mark on Chaeyoung’s ankle, likely courtesy of her District partner.

She notched an arrow and fired. It was a rushed, panicked shot, and it sank into the boy’s shoulder. But it did the trick, diverting his attention away from Chaeyoung and towards Tzuyu.

Now for part two of her plan.

Tzuyu ran.

Unlike all the other tributes who bolted towards the forest, Tzuyu ran in the opposite direction, right onto the ice. It was slippy, and she had to move slower than she would prefer, but she knew from previous harsh winters how to move on ice without losing her balance. The career tributes, from districts further south, most likely did not have that experience.

It was a gamble, but it paid off. Soon she was far out onto the ice, and the boys from District 1 and 2 had fallen behind. She turned to face them, relishing the looks on their faces when they saw her draw another arrow. One of them flung a knife at her, but it fell short. At her current distance from them, she was confident that she could hit them with an arrow before they got close enough to hit her with their knives.

The one exception would be Sana and her spear. If any of the careers could hit her from a long distance, it would be her. But currently, Sana looked busy picking through the Cornucopia supplies, Mina by her side.

There was no sign of Dahyun and Chaeyoung. Tzuyu breathed a sigh of relief.

A small part of her wondered if they’d wanted to wait for her. But that was foolish and sentimental. She should be glad that they trusted her to know what she was doing, glad that they’d ran into the woods instead of trying to protect her and ruin her plan. And she was. Mostly.

The two boys had given up trying to chase after her. She saw one of them shake their head angrily and turn back towards the bloodbath. The other spat at her, which almost made Tzuyu laugh.

There was really nothing funny about this situation. But she was alive, and she was in control, and the rush of power she felt at having things work out well for her, even just during the first ten minutes of the Games, it felt good.

Tzuyu lowered her arms. It was best to save her strength, especially while on the ice.

Standing calmly in the wide open arena, Tzuyu watched the careers, and she waited.

* * *

Dahyun ran, ran faster than she’d ever ran before in her life. Chaeyoung stumbled along beside her, one arm slung over Dahyun’s shoulder, the other carrying a sack, hopefully filled with food.

“Fucking… asshole…” Chaeyoung panted as she ran. “Stupid...fucking...Luster...with his dumb name...Tried to break...my fucking ankle.”

“I have to admit, it’s very amusing seeing you curse this much.” Dahyun said, pausing for a second to jump over a stream. “But less ranting about the shittiness of your District partner, more running, yes?”

“Yes.” Chaeyoung jumped over the stream, ignoring the hand Dahyun offered to help her.

Dahyun saw her wince as she landed on her ankle, but said nothing about it. If Chaeyoung wanted to act like it was fine, then that was her call.

Dahyun couldn’t think too hard, couldn’t worry. If she did, she’d remember the carnage she’d seen at the Cornucopia, and going into shock was not helpful right now. So she had to keep running, keep pulling Chaeyoung as far away from the careers as possible. She couldn’t think about the tribute who had tried to kill her, or the axe that had stuck right into his head courtesy of Momo, splattering Dahyun with blood. She couldn’t think about how close Chaeyoung had been to dying, how she’d screamed when the District 1 boy stomped on her ankle. All she could do was clutch the mace she had managed to tug free from the corpse of a fallen tribute, hold tightly to Chaeyoung with her free hand, and keep moving.

Dahyun wasn’t sure how long they ran before the cannon rang out. The booming noise immediately made her jerk around, swinging the mace wildly. Chaeyoung grabbed her hand to steady her, and Dahyun relaxed once she realised what the noise was.

One, two, three. Three shots, three dead tributes.

“Shit.” Chaeyoung muttered. “Only three dead. That’s not a good sign.”

Dahyun remembered what happened in previous years when the bloodbath wasn’t entertaining enough. The Gamemakers always had something nasty up their sleeves to spice up the Arena and increase the death toll.

“Here.” Dahyun thrust the mace into Chaeyoung’s hands, taking the sack and slinging it over her shoulder. “Whatever they have planned, you’re probably better with that mace than I am. Anything moves, you kill it.”

Chaeyoung nodded, and they resumed their journey. Dahyun had no idea where they were headed, she just knew that they needed to get as far away from the Cornucopia as possible.

“Dahyun.” Chaeyoung said quietly. “You don’t think… One of those three cannon shots, it wasn’t Tzuyu, was it?”

Dahyun’s stomach twisted as Chaeyoung voiced the other horror she’d been trying to repress. Tzuyu, running off onto the ice, and Dahyun forced to make the choice of leaving her there in order to get herself and Chaeyoung to safety.

“Of course not!” she said, trying to sound as cheerful and confident as usual. “She had her bow and arrow, didn’t she? There’s more of a chance that the third cannon shot belongs to a career than to her.”

“Yeah.” There was a tremble to Chaeyoung’s voice. “Yeah of course. She’s Tzuyu, she’s not going to just give up and die.”

Dahyun almost laughed at that, a hysterical noise that caught in her chest. Chaeyoung wasn’t technically wrong, but the way she meant ‘ _ give up and die’  _ was definitely something Tzuyu had already done. Dahyun remembered that night on the rooftop, Chaeyoung asleep between them. The hollow look in Tzuyu’s eyes had been too haunting to forget.

She couldn’t think about that now. Another feeling of horror to add to the little box in the back of her mind, bursting at the seams in its efforts to keep her sanity intact.

There would be a time to confront all her feelings about Tzuyu. And hopefully that time would come when all three of them were reunited.

* * *

With the panic of the bloodbath over with, Chaeyoung’s nerves had begun to settle. She was still on high alert, gripping the mace Dahyun had snatched up firmly in her hand. She knew how to use it, although she wasn’t as comfortable with it as she was with her sword. 

She felt a twinge of regret, thinking back to how close she’d been from wrestling the sword from the District 10 boy’s hands. She’d almost had it, and then Luster had kicked her in the ribs, and the boy had taken off in terror. After that, Chaeyoung had lost sight of him, too focused on trying to escape the wrath of her district partner. 

Her desire for a sword had almost gotten her and Dahyun killed. If it wasn’t for Tzuyu, the careers would have likely killed them both. In the end, all Chaeyoung had managed to scavenge was a plastic bag that she still hadn’t opened. 

And Tzuyu might possibly be dead.

Chaeyoung tried to rationalize it in her head. If Tzuyu was dead, then at least she didn’t have to suffer the terror of the Games any longer. And as cruel and cold as it sounded, this way Chaeyoung wouldn’t have to kill someone she cared about.

But knowing that Tzuyu was most likely the last of the non career tributes left at the Cornucopia, if she had fallen to the pack, it would not have been a quick death. With such a low number of fatalities at the bloodbath, the careers would want to put on a show. It would raise sponsor’s interest in them, and hopefully prevent the Capitol from targeting them with whatever excitement they had planned next.

Chaeyoung remembered the video Nayeon had shown them. She had no doubt that Luster and his cronies would be willing to go all out with Tzuyu’s death, making it as gruesome and painful as possible.

She suddenly felt too sick to walk. She stopped, and Dahyun kept going until she was tugged back. She turned to look at Chaeyoung, concerned.

“I want to see what’s in the bag.” Chaeyoung said, because saying she was worried about Tzuyu would only get a firm practical response.

She appreciated Dahyun’s practical nature. Her ability to hide her emotions and keep them under control was a talent Chaeyoung lacked, and one of the many reasons they made a good team. But right now, Chaeyoung didn’t want that. She wanted to be scared for Tzuyu, to be allowed to curl up in a ball and cry about the cruelty of their reality.

And since she couldn’t do that, she’d settle for seeing what was in this damn sack. 

Dahyun pulled her into a dense thicket, so that they were hidden from anyone searching along the obvious trails of the forest. Chaeyoung twitched as the leaves brushed against her, and blushed at the fond look Dahyun gave her.

It turned out the bag was not a total waste. A knife, with the blade running from the top of Chaeyoung’s thumb down to her wrist. Too small to be her preferred choice of weapon, so Dahyun eagerly took it. A clear plastic packet containing a mixture of beef jerky and crackers, a long coil of rope, an empty water bottle with some iodine tablets, and another clear plastic packet of dried apricots.

It was a good haul. Judging by the gleam in Dahyun’s eyes she was already evaluating how best to use all their new supplies. Chaeyoung still wished she had gotten the sword instead, as foolish as that seemed. The mace would work just as well when it came to killing anyone that tried to hurt them, but swords were like a security blanket to Chaeyoung. Holding one gave her confidence.

Especially in an Arena where she was being hunted by a pack of trained killers.

“We should keep an eye out for a safe place to hide.” Dahyun said. “With the rope we can tie ourselves to a tree and take shifts keeping watch at night, but it’s best we do it before it gets dark. Harder to see.”

“What about Tzuyu?” Chaeyoung asked. “Is there any way we can contact her? A smoke signal or something?”

It was a dumb thing to say. But the look Dahyun gave her was sympathetic.

“If we all survive, the Gamemakers will force us together soon enough. So let’s just focus on staying alive long enough to see her again, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Chaeyoung agreed softly.

Dahyun patted her on the shoulder, then put the packet of apricots back in the bag. She signalled for Chaeyoung to stay quiet, then tentatively peeked her head out from the bushes they were hidden in. After a minute, she slipped out, and Chaeyoung followed.

They crept through the trees, Dahyun leading. Chaeyoung was amazed by how silent Dahyun was, there were barely even any twigs cracking under her feet. It made her more conscious of her own footsteps, and she struggled to try and lessen their noise while still keeping up with Dahyun.

With a badly bruised leg, this was fairly difficult. Chaeyoung suddenly felt very, very grateful she’d accepted the alliance Dahyun offered, and slightly embarrassed by her own arrogance. She’d been so convinced her District 1 expertise would be more useful than anything her lower district partners brought to the table, but if it wasn’t for Dahyun and Tzuyu, she would probably be dead right now. And while having people to care about in the Games was still definitely setting herself up to be hurt, at least this way she’d be alive to feel the pain.

“I hope Tzuyu is alri-”

Dahyun suddenly tugged her behind a tree, putting a finger to Chaeyoung’s lips. Chaeyoung stared with wide eyes, waiting for an explanation. After a few seconds, she heard the sound of footsteps.

“Hurry up.” She recognised the voice, it belonged to the boy from District 5. “We can’t stop, not until we find somewhere secure.”

“There  _ is  _ nowhere secure.” His district partner snapped. “Your plan is to run and run until we’re exhausted and the Careers are tracking us down?”

“My plan is to get as far away as possible while they hunt down the ones who set up camp early. If you want to stay behind and get a spear to the chest, be my guest.”

Their voices faded, to the point where Chaeyoung couldn’t make out the girl’s grumbled reply. She let out a long sigh of relief as Dahyun pulled her finger away.

Only then did Chaeyoung realise how close they were. She could feel Dahyun’s breath tickling her face, and it made her blush. Dahyun noticed, because of course she did. She smirked and wiggled her eyebrows, and Chaeyoung couldn’t help but laugh.

It was a small laugh, barely even a giggle. But after everything they’d seen today, it was enough.

* * *

The cold was starting to seep through her socks and shoes. Tzuyu knew she couldn’t stay out on the ice much longer. 

The majority of the careers had left, with just Sana remaining to keep watch over Tzuyu. Mina was by her side, carefully digging up landmines and burying them around the horn, where the supplies were stocked.

It was a smart strategy, as it made her invaluable to the careers. They would need her in order to access their supplies, and career trainees tended to rely heavily on the food supplies already given during the start of the Games. Tzuyu was impressed.

But it gave her an opening to escape. Tzuyu’s bow and arrow against Sana’s spear was a dangerous risk to take. Sana had trained far longer with her weapon, and she was probably more confident in her skills than Tzuyu was. If Tzuyu threatened her with an arrow to the neck, there was a good chance Sana would risk it, and try to spear Tzuyu before she got the chance to fire.

But with Mina there, Tzuyu had an advantage. Mina didn’t have Sana’s reflexes, gained from long hours of training. Aiming her arrow at Mina would force Sana to take a much larger risk if she tried to spear Tzuyu.

She slowly walked closer across the ice, and Sana’s head snapped around to face her as soon as she did. Sana raised her spear, but didn’t fire. Tzuyu wasn’t close enough yet.

At this distance, she might be able to hit Sana with an arrow. But she was too far away to be certain, so she kept the bow and arrow up and walked carefully across the ice. Sana moved to meet her, never stepping on the ice herself.

Once they got close enough to speak, Sana raised an eyebrow. In response, Tzuyu simply turned the bow and arrow towards Mina, who froze. There was a landmine in her hands, an added bonus.

“What are you doing?” Sana’s voice was tense.

“Giving you a choice.” Tzuyu said calmly. “Either you kill me and I kill Mina, and probably you too if that landmine is as sensitive as I think it is. Or you let me go, and you get another chance to kill me later on in the Games, one that might not end in mutual destruction.”

Sana’s eyes darted back and forward between Tzuyu and Mina. The grip on her spear shook slightly. It could be fear for her own life, but Tzuyu didn’t think so. Careers were prepared for risky situations, prepared for the possibility of death in the search for glory.

The possibility of caring about another tribute dying? Now that was something they weren’t prepared for. Sana’s concern for Mina was so very… human of her. It was disconcerting for Tzuyu to witness, so she imagined it must be quite the struggle for Sana herself.

She watched Sana wrestle with it, the emotions visible across her face. She was strangely open for a career. Tzuyu liked it. She liked a lot of things about Sana, and Mina too.

Too bad she had to kill them.

But that was a problem for the future. Right now, she kept her bow and arrow steady as Sana made her choice. She lowered her spear and jerked her head at Tzuyu.

Tzuyu took off running. She sprinted into the woods, hearing a thunk of something hitting a tree behind her. Sana was  _ fast,  _ to be able to throw the spear that quickly after putting it down. But her aim wasn’t as good when she was panicked. That was valuable information.

Tzuyu kept running. She knew that Sana probably wouldn’t chase after her, not when she had Mina to protect. But it was dangerous to rely too much on Sana’s heart. She had to be rational about this, to assume the worst at every opportunity.

As she ran, Tzuyu wondered what to do now. She could try and find Chaeyoung and Dahyun, meet back up with them and try her best to protect them.

But the best protection they had was their ability to hide. Tzuyu was tall for her age, with uncoordinated gangly limbs that somehow worked together perfectly when there was a bow and arrow in her hands. Hiding, on the other hand, was not something she was sure she’d be good at. The few times she’d tried to hide in the factory, the foreman had always found her.

She wanted to see Dahyun and Chaeyoung again. But she wouldn’t endanger them, she’d wait until all the careers were dead.

If that meant killing them herself, then so be it.

She wasn’t very far away from the Cornucopia when she found it. A small cave, with some ashes smouldering in the centre. There was a tribute lying dead in front of it, a large gaping wound through his chest. Tzuyu crawled past him, covering her nose at the smell. She wriggled into the darkest corner she could find, and waited patiently. The careers would have to regroup at some point, once they were finished the first hunt. They were strong, and talented, but they were human. And they would have to rest eventually.

Tzuyu wasn’t entirely sure how she would take them all down, even if a few of them were asleep. But if she didn’t, they’d remain a threat to Chaeyoung and Dahyun, and that simply was not something Tzuyu would allow.

She’d kill them all, preferably without dying in the process.

* * *

Chaeyoung’s feet were starting to hurt from all the walking. Her ankle was still giving her trouble, but now the soles of her feet had a dull steady ache too. She wondered how the less athletic tributes were managing, the ones that didn’t have her stamina levels. Probably dead already.

Hopefully dead already. 

She kept a tight grip on the mace as she walked through the undergrowth. Dahyun led the way, guiding Chaeyoung around patches of poisonous foliage and dips in the ground where she might twist her other ankle. 

“Those plant identifying training sessions paid off, huh?” Dahyun glanced back to grin at her. “Bet the others are kicking themselves that they can’t tell their sponge mushrooms from their false morels.”

“There’s definitely a lot of Noseburn here.” Chaeyoung agreed. “Not the kind of thing you want to brush your legs against.”

“You still call it Noseburn? That’s so cute.”

“No one in District 1 calls it ‘Tragia.’ I don’t care what the plant trainer said.”

“Plant trainer.” Dahyun snorted. “Bet she’d love that. You know-”

She froze, and Chaeyoung froze too. A second later, she heard it. Noise, laughter, whooping. Branches snapping, getting closer.

“Shit.” Dahyun hissed. “ _ Run _ .”

Chaeyoung bolted. There was no more careful creeping and covering of tracks. The careers were close and they were out for blood and every bit of adrenaline in Chaeyoung’s body told her to sprint forward, to run and to run and to run until the sound of the predators was long gone.

She could see Dahyun in front of her, her head jerking left to right. Looking for shelter, a place to hide. Chaeyoung couldn’t think like that right now, her two instincts were to flee and to fight. But she trusted Dahyun. If Dahyun found a place she thought they would be safe, Chaeyoung would follow her.

It turns out, Dahyun didn’t find a place. Someone else did.

As they ran past a bush, two hands shot out, grabbing them. Chaeyoung opened her mouth to scream, but the person was strong, and they dragged both of them into the bush and clamped a hand over their mouths before she had time to draw a breath.

Chaeyoung struggled, and thrashed, and then she realised who had caught them, and stopped wriggling out of pure confusion.

“Shh.” Momo hissed, dragging them slowly backwards.

Momo, District 2. Alone, apparently. Why the hell was she helping them? Why hadn’t she snapped their necks yet?

Dahyun reached out to grab Chaeyoung’s hand and squeezed. Chaeyoung looked at her, and nodded. 

If Momo wanted them dead, they’d be dead by now. Best to see what she was up to before trying to fight.

Momo pulled them into a hollow, a small dirt cave hidden underneath the bush. It was barely visible from the side of the forest covered in shrubbery, and not visible at all from the side with more of a path. It was an ideal hiding spot.

Chaeyoung just wished she knew why Momo was sharing it with them.

Momo let go of their mouths, but put a finger to her lips. Chaeyoung nodded, and imitated her. 

They crouched there, in tense silence. Chaeyoung could hear every breath she took, no matter how short and quiet she tried to make them. Louder and fainter was the sound of the male careers, laughing and chattering to each other. Their voices got closer, and Dahyun’s grip on Chaeyoung’s hand tightened. Chaeyoung held her mace up, but Momo gently pushed it down and shook her head.

Chaeyoung wasn’t sure why she obeyed, but she did. The boys walked right over them, so close that she could hear what they were saying.

“You think Momo’s found them yet?”

“She better have. Bitch has been useless this entire time.”

“At least she killed one of them.” That was the District 2 boy. “Your Sana hasn’t done anything except look after that District 3 girl.”

“She’s playing the love angle.” The boy from District 4 snapped back. “You’ll thank her when we get more sponsors.”

“I’ll thank her when she finally starts pulling her weight and kills that little runt.”

Chaeyoung glanced over at Momo, surprised at the blatant anger on her face. She knew Momo cared for Sana and Mina, but Chaeyoung always figured it wouldn’t last this far. Everything about this scenario went against what she knew about the careers.

The boy’s voices faded slowly, and when they could no longer be heard, Chaeyoung allowed herself to let out a sigh of relief, relaxing against the arm around her shoulder.

Then she remembered who’s arm it was, and she tensed up again.

“Is it safe to talk?” Dahyun whispered.

“Yes.” Momo whispered back. “But keep your voice down.”

Chaeyoung glanced over at Dahyun, and saw the question at the forefront of her mind reflected right back at her in her friend’s eyes.

Why had Momo saved them?

* * *

Dahyun could see that Chaeyoung was equally as confused as she was. She tried to think why Momo would have helped them, but she came up blank. Maybe Tzuyu made a deal with her? 

“Not that I’m not grateful to be alive, but why are you helping us?”

“I’m not.” Momo threw her hands up as Chaeyoung gripped her mace. “I’m not going to kill you either, calm down.”

“Explain.” Chaeyoung hissed.

“What the boys are doing, hunting down the other kids and murdering them in their sleep… I can’t do that. I’m a warrior, not a butcher.”

There were ten sarcastic comments Dahyun could make about that statement, but none of them would do her any favours, so she bit her tongue and kept listening.

“I killed the boy in the bloodbath because he was about to kill you, and I thought that would be enough to satisfy them for now. But they’ve all murdered a tribute in the time we’ve been hunting, and now it’s my turn. They’ll turn on me if I refuse.”

“So you are saving us.” Chaeyoung said slowly. “But what happens next?”

Momo turned to look at Dahyun, and Dahyun stuck her chin out, trying not to look afraid. Momo could snap her neck in a second, Dahyun had no doubt about it. All that prevented it was this strange honour code she seemed adamant about.

Dahyun wasn’t sure how long they would be able to rely on that.

“I’ve saved your life twice now.” Momo said calmly. “Next time we meet, we’ll fight to the death. As equals. None of this stabbing and torturing crying defenseless kids bullshit that the boys are so fond of.”

It was bizarre to Dahyun, that someone could walk into the game and care about things like honour and fair fights. If the roles were reversed, she would have stabbed Momo in an instant. 

Did that make Momo a better person than her? Or just someone with enough privilege to choose her method of killing?

Dahyun didn’t know, and right now it didn’t matter. The important thing was that Momo was going to let them live. 

“I appreciate you doing this.” Dahyun said, trying to stop her voice from trembling. “We’re going to hide out here for as long as we can. But we’ll have to move at some point, and when we do, you can find us and we’ll fight.”

Momo nodded, and then she crawled out from the bush. Dahyun saw Chaeyoung’s hand twitch, tempted to swing the mace as Momo knelt in front of them with her back exposed to them. But something stopped her. Probably the same sense of honour and respect that made Momo save them in the first place. Stabbing someone in the back when they just saved your life was a dirty move.

Dahyun was very tempted to do it. Her hand clenched around the knife in her pocket, trembling as Momo slowly moved away from them.

She stood up and broke out into a run. Still Dahyun knelt there, shaking.

They’d been  _ so close  _ to dying. Momo had been close enough to snap their necks, and there was nothing Dahyun could have done about it. She was alive only because a Career tribute had chosen mercy.

What an unpredictable Games this was turning out to be. The Capitol viewers were probably loving these plot twists.

Chaeyoung slipped her hand into Dahyun’s, gently easing it away from it’s death grip on the knife. Dahyun took one trembling breath, then another, more firm.

“Come on.” she said. “Let’s find somewhere else to hide. In case Momo gets impatient.”

“I don’t think she’ll go back on her word like that.” Chaeyoung looked pensive. “She’s… she seemed genuine.”

“Oh I agree. But if we don’t come out at some point she’ll drag us out for her version of a fair fight. And let’s be honest, the odds aren’t great. I’d rather not risk it.”

“What other way is there?”

“I don’t know, set a trap or something?” Dahyun sighed. “Look, Momo seems...not violently evil. But her idea of a fair fight is my idea of an almost certain death. So let’s just find a new hiding place, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Chaeyoung sighed. “Yeah you’re right. Let’s go.”

They snuck out into the trees, Dahyun in front, scanning their surroundings, Chaeyoung behind her, clutching the mace and ready to use it.

“We should probably try to find a water source.” Dahyun whispered. “It’s the most important thing we’ll need if we’re going to outlast the others.”

“Right.” Chaeyoung nodded. “Good idea. Which way should we head?”

Dahyun opened her mouth to reply.

And that was when the razor beaked birds attacked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: Oh Tzuyu we're really in it now part 2: Electric Boogaloo


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning: character death. From here on out no one is safe.

Chaeyoung had no idea how it had all gone wrong so quickly. One second they were sneaking through the woods, the next the sky grew dark. At first she thought the Gamemakers had switched the sun off or something, but then she realised that the swarm of birds above them was simply blocking it.

It was a slow sickening feeling, the dread that filled her as she slowly registered what was about to happen. And still her brain struggled to compute how the creatures had surrounded them so _quickly_.

Then the birds dove down, shrieking as they attacked. Chaeyoung immediately swung her mace, hitting two birds and hearing the crunch of their bones breaking from the force. But three more were already pecking at her hand, and no matter how wildly she swung they wouldn't relent. 

"Go back!" She heard Dahyun scream. "Go back to the hollow!" 

Chaeyoung tried swinging her mace again, but at this point the birds had them almost completely surrounded. Panic seized her, and adrenaline pumped through her veins as she switched from fight to flight mode. 

She sprinted back towards the hollow Momo had shown them, swinging her mace wildly to clear a path. Dahyun was right next to her, still screaming as the birds pecked her. 

Chaeyoung couldn't blame her. Each peck from the birds hurt like a bee sting, leaving a throbbing pain behind every time they attacked. They weren't ordinary birds, and not just because of their razor sharp metal beaks. Their pecks had something else to them, some kind of poison most likely. 

All Chaeyoung could do was hope it wasn't the fatal kind. 

The birds were everywhere, and no matter how hard she swung it felt like they were getting closer. The air was filled with the sound of unnatural screaming and the sickening crunch of blood and bone. Chaeyoung felt a feather fly into her mouth, but she didn’t dare open her lips to try and spit it out. Not with the birds trying so hard to peck her face to bits.

She tried to ignore the fear clouding her mind, the one hissing that she was going to die here, swarmed by a Capitol mutation. Instead she focused on Dahyun’s silhouette, still visible next to her as they fled. One bird tried to go for Dahyun’s eyes, and Chaeyoung somehow reached through the swarm and jabbed it away.

They were close now, Chaeyoung couldn’t remember exactly how close but surely the hollow couldn’t be-

She hissed as a bird slashed her cheek. The stinging was getting worse, and the more the pain grew the more worried she got about how lethal the poison might be. She wasn't sure how many more pecks she could take.

Luckily, she didn’t get to find out. Dahyun’s hand gripped Chaeyoung’s wrist tightly, and Chaeyoung instinctively ducked.

Dahyun slid into the hollow, and Chaeyoung followed close behind. She crouched down next to the entrance and swung her mace rapidly back and forth, preventing the birds from following them down into the ground. One or two made an attempt, and Chaeyoung grimaced from the fresh stings they gave her arms, but she got them all before they could reach Dahyun. 

The birds shrieked outside, the ear piercing scream that was steadily growing to be Chaeyoung’s least favourite sound. She spat out the damn feather, grimacing at the aftertaste of blood. 

“We just have to hold out.” Dahyun’s voice was hoarse from screaming. “They’ll grow tired eventually.”

Chaeyoung gripped her mace tight, and nodded.

* * *

There was noise outside. A lot of screaming. Four cannon shots.

Tzuyu chewed calmly on her ration bar. Whatever it was, it would hopefully take out a lot of the tributes. Chaeyoung and Dahyun would be fine. Dahyun’s survival skills and Chaeyoung’s combat skills would protect them from whatever the danger was.

As much as she wanted to run out and find them, she knew she’d just be getting herself killed by whatever was out there. Best to let it blow over, hopefully kill a few careers, and then hunt down the rest of them.

And if her heart was rapidly beating at the thought of the two of them dying, at the thought of never seeing them again, well.

That was just an unfortunate consequence of the Games.

* * *

Chaeyoung wasn’t sure how long she crouched in front of the entrance. At first time was measured in the space between each attack from the birds. Then, after they’d given up and flown off, looking for an easier target, time was simply measured in each individual breath, and the level of pain it produced from the stinging cuts.

“We have to move.” Dahyun croaked out, voice still hoarse from screaming. “I can’t stand this burning any longer. We need to find a way to cool it.”

“Like what? Water?” Chaeyoung had to admit, finding something to ease the pain sounded tempting. But too risky. “What if the birds come back? I don’t want to test our luck against them again.”

“These cuts aren’t closing.” Dahyun rested her head against the cool earth wall of the hollow. “The bleeding isn’t stopping. We can’t hide here forever, and it really fucking stings.”

All valid points. Chaeyoung had noticed that the cuts were still dripping blood, and the pain was growing, but she’d mentally categorized that on the short term survival priority list, as opposed to the immediate fucking danger priority list.

“You think water will help? What if we need proper medicine? Like, from sponsors? They’ve done something like that before, poisoned the arena.”

“Well maybe it won’t work, but if not we’ll just have to come up with something else. For now it’s worth a shot, because if I have to sit here burning with pain any longer I’m going to start screaming again.”

Dahyun’s tone was light and playful, but Chaeyoung could see the tension in her eyes. This was bad.

“Alright.” she sighed. “We’ll risk it. We go out, we find water, we stop the burning, and then we find a place to hide. And at the first sign of birds we turn back, even if there’s a whole big lake in front of us.”

“Deal.” Dahyun smiled, and even with all the scratches and dirt on her face, she was still so pretty and charming. Chaeyoung was overcome with the urge to kiss her.

So she did.

Dahyun’s mouth was open, about to say something else, probably a witty remark. But Chaeyoung pushed herself closer, feeling how the air shifted between them as Dahyun realised what was about to happen.

There was a second where Chayeoung hesitated, fear of ruining their current friendship almost overwhelming her, but there was something in Dahyun’s eyes, in the way her breath hitched. Maybe Chaeyoung was reading into it, but there was only one way to find out if Dahyun felt the same way she did.

And Chaeyoung had never been one to ignore her own feelings.

She pressed their lips together softly, so light it was more of a question than an actual kiss. Dahyun answered, pushing her lips more firmly against Chaeyoung. Chaeyoung opened her mouth, hands coming up to cup Dahyun’s face as she deepened the kiss.

For a moment, it was perfect. Nothing mattered, not the darkness around them or the stinging of her cuts or the cameras that were no doubt watching them. Right then, the only thing that mattered was Dahyun, and the feelings bubbling in Chaeyoung’s chest, spilling out the only way she knew how to say it.

Pretty words could get sponsors, Dahyun’s acting could get people invested in their romance. But this? This kiss was not for them, not for anyone except her and Dahyun. It was driven by pure selfish desire, each brush of their lips sending tingles down Chaeyoung’s spine.

She wanted to savour every small sensation. She wanted to remember Dahyun like this, alive and beautiful and enticing. The Capitol couldn’t stop her from loving, no matter what pain it promised her at the end.

Dahyun pulled back for air, and Chaeyoung let her. But still she kept her thumb on her cheek, one finger gently stroking it. The sparkle in Dahyun’s eyes, the grin she wore, both nervous and cocky at the same time. She wanted to remember all of it, wanted to grab a brush and paint it, immortalize this moment.

Instead she let Dahyun wrap her fingers around her wrist, and gently push Chaeyoung’s hand away.

“As much as I would love to do that again, and believe me, I would.” Dahyun coughed, the only hint Chaeyoung got about how giddy she truly felt. “The rest of me feels like it’s going to catch on fire. And I mean painful fire not…”

“Right.” Chaeyoung mirrored her grin. “Got it. We go find water.”

“Yes.” Dahyun nodded, and shook her head slightly.

She seemed so stunned, so off balance. Chaeyoung couldn’t ever remember her looking this wild eyed, not even back at the Cornucopia, and it made her giggle.

Dahyun shot her a quizzical look, and she merely shrugged, a cheeky smile on her face. Dahyun scoffed, and reached over to poke her dimple.

Maybe this was what it meant, Chaeyoung thought, to be in love.

Neither of them mentioned the ghost between them, the girl who they’d expected to be by their side.

* * *

The screaming had stopped. Tzuyu poked her head out curiously. Everything seemed clear and quiet.

She put her supplies in her bag, including the ones she’d scavenged off the boy’s corpse before the Capitol came to take him away in their aircraft. They hadn’t been able to access it easily, since he was too close to the entrance of the cave. So with nothing better to do in order to pass the time, Tzuyu had given him a small funeral. Nothing much, just some flowers, some ashes, and some funeral rites she remembered seeing back in District 8. She couldn’t even remember the boy’s name, but it felt like the right thing to do.

When the Capitol’s machine finally descended to take the body, she let it go without a fight.

She wasn’t sure how long it had been since then. Probably a good few hours. Enough time for the Capitol to let their monsters run their course. It was no fun if everybody died that way, so they probably pulled whatever evil it was away once they’d herded the tributes close enough to each other.

Hopefully, the careers were near her, and not near Dahyun and Chaeyoung.

She'd gone through the bag she'd snatched from the bloodbath. If rationed correctly, there was enough food to last her two days. There was a bottle of water that she'd probably need to drink soon, a small sharp knife, and some rope. 

Combined with her bow and quiver of arrows, Tzuyu was feeling almost optimistic about her chances of survival. 

Standing up and stretching her legs, Tzuyu gripped her bow firmly, and began to creep through the forest.

* * *

The pool of water they’d found was pleasantly deep, with no hidden dangers. While there was still a risk of being caught by another tribute, Dahyun had shimmied up a tree and scouted the nearby area. And if she said it was safe to dive in and cool off, then Chaeyoung trusted her.

The chill of the water was a pleasant distraction from the pain of the cuts, and it seemed to be cooling the burning sensation she felt. Chaeyoung dunked her head fully under to get the cuts on her face, wincing at the different sensations. Torn between the burning cuts and the cold of the water, she shuddered as she came up for air.

“I hate it here.” Chaeyoung cringed at how whiny her voice sounded.

Floating on the water next to her, Dahyun let out an exhausted laugh.“Home does seem like a pretty nice concept right now.”

Chaeyoung felt her throat swell up with tears at the thought of her family.

“Yeah.” She grinned, trying not to sound shaken. “District 1 wasn’t perfect, but it didn’t have poisonous razor beaked birds.”

“Neither did 12.” Dahyun swam over, setting her legs down and standing up.

Chaeyoung laughed as she shook her hair dry, droplets of water splattering all over the place. The pain in her arms had begun to cool down, leaving only a mild burning feeling behind. The poison must not have been lethal, just very painful. Most likely a trick to herd tributes towards the few pools of water in order to cool down.

“I have to say, if I had to pick the worst first date ever, this would probably be it.” Dahyun kept her tone nice and light, a tone Chaeyoung had come to recognise as her ‘flirting for the Capitol’ voice. “But the company does make it more bearable.”

“The company is the only bearable thing about this hellhole.” Chaeyoung wasn’t quite ready to leave the water yet, even as Dahyun stepped out. “It’s only been a day and I’m sick of it already.”

“Look on the bright side.” Dahyun stretched, and Chaeyoung did her best not to stare at the sliver of skin it exposed on her back. “Those birds probably look out a lot of tributes. The less people we need to kill, the sooner you can get home.”

Chaeyoung went to reply, but then the full weight of what Dahyun just said hit her, and she paused.

_The sooner you can get home._ Not ‘ _the sooner we can’_ or ‘ _the sooner one of us can’,_ but ‘ _the sooner you can’._ Like Dahyun was convinced that Chaeyoung was the one who was going to survive. Which made no sense to Chaeyoung, because from what she had seen their odds were fairly even.

She could tell that Dahyun had noticed that weird slip up too, because for a second her eyes flickered with something close to panic. Then it faded away, and she slipped on her trademark teasing grin.

“I mean, if you want to hang around for a bit and kiss me a few more times first, I certainly won’t object.”

Chaeyoung felt her face grow red, tempted to jump back into the water and escape this conversation.

“I admit,” Dahyun continued. “It’s not how I would have done it, but it definitely wasn’t bad.”

“Wasn’t bad?” Chaeyoung scoffed. “Please, you looked like you were about to grow wings and fly away with happiness. How would you have done it better?”

“Hmm.” Dahyun tapped her lip in mock contemplation. “Well I would have gone old school. A date, candlelit dinner, walk you back home and kiss you on the doorstep.”

“Sounds nice.” Chaeyoung smiled wistfully. “A bit much for my taste, but nice.”

“A bit much? How would you have done it?”

“Alright picture this. You, me, Tzuyu. Movie night. I’ve traded a bunch of things in order to get this movie you were really interested in, but Tzuyu falls asleep after ten minutes. So then I casually sling my arm around your shoulder, right when the movie reaches a bit of a boring part.”

“Oh you’ve fantasized about this a lot, huh? You know almost no one in District 12 has ever seen a movie other than the Games right? ”

“Shhh. Let me show you my vision.”

* * *

Tzuyu had picked up some tracking lessons, back when she’d gotten confident enough with the bow to spare an hour or two for the other stations. Now, she regretted not taking more. She could spot a trail, and follow it, but she struggled to tell if it was the career’s trail or not. It seemed like she was following more than one person, but that was a guess based solely on the amount of trampled vegetation under her feet.

It shouldn’t have been as easy to find them as it was, but they clearly didn’t realise they were being hunted. She’d been walking for around twenty minutes when she heard them, the sound of loud voices arguing carrying across the forest.

Tzuyu weighed her options. The careers were good when it came to fighting, but they weren’t known for their observational skills. They probably got some survival training back home, but nothing like the instincts Tzuyu had, and definitely nothing like Dahyun. Could she get closer? Close enough to see them?

If she could find a good spot to spy on them, Tzuyu thought it would be worth the risk.

As she crept closer, careful not to snap any twigs, she found herself trying to breathe as quietly as possible. Thankfully, all her caution seemed fairly unnecessary. The careers weren’t paying much attention to their surroundings, too focused on what seemed to be an internal dispute.

Tzuyu had arrived right in the middle of the argument, and she was too far away to hear them clearly, but she could see that Sana was standing with Mina behind her, one arm thrown protectively in front of the District 3 girl. Momo was next to Sana, yelling right in the face of Chaeyoung’s district partner. The other two boys seemed to be backing him up. There was a small campfire next to them, and items scattered around it that Tzuyu couldn’t make out from this distance.

Tzuyu inched closer, always careful to stay out of their line of sight. Even if they turned around, she was concealed by shrubbery. They would have to walk right over to notice her, and by that time she’d be able to put an arrow through at least one of their necks.

She didn’t want to tempt fate too much, but she did want to hear what was causing friction between them. Maybe she could gain some useful information on their weaknesses.

“Come on Mina.” She heard Sana say. “Let’s go find some water.”

She watched as Sana guided Mina away, and once they were out of sight Momo shoved the District 1 boy in the chest.

“What the fuck is your _problem?_ ”

“My problem? You and Sana are the ones refusing to kill the kid!”

“Because she’s valuable to us, you morons! Do you three know how to navigate the traps she built around our supplies?”

“So what? We’re supposed to keep looking out for her?” The boy from 2 chimed in angrily. “ It’s been a full day. We haven’t found any other tributes. Let’s just get her to draw a diagram or something, and then we’ll kill her.”

“Oh yeah, real smart,” Momo hissed. “I’m sure she’ll be happy to give up the correct information and then die so that you three can calm your bloodlust. Use your brains. There’s no reason to kill her now when there’s still so many other tributes out there. She needs us, and for now we need her. So get over yourselves.”

“So you’ll kill her when the time comes?”

“Of course. I want to win.”

Tzuyu frowned. Something was off about Momo’s body language. That last reply seemed far more uncertain than the others. Clearly the male tributes had picked up on it too, because Momo glared at them, walking up so that she was face to face with the District 1 boy.

“But I am not letting you three ruin this for us because you’ve gotten too hyper off slaughtering tributes. If she dies, you die.”

It was a bold threat to make when it was one against three. But for whatever reason, the boys backed down. Tzuyu remembered back in the training center, how Momo had always been the last one standing. They may be itching for a fight, but they wanted a fight they knew they would win.

The boys sat down in a semi circle around the campfire, and began sharpening their weapons and picking through what looked like a dead fish. After a moment, Momo followed suit, idly twirling her axe in her hand.

There was still a layer of tension surrounding them. Mina’s status appeared to be a divisive subject in the career camp.

And it gave Tzuyu a terrible idea.

* * *

Chaeyoung’s hand felt different.

Dahyun knew it was probably all in her head. Chaeyoung’s hand was the same as normal. Surprisingly soft despite the callouses and scars from her sword training. But ever since their kiss, every touch felt… different.

Electric.

She shook her head softly, focusing on her surroundings. Her senses indicated that they were alone, but that could change at any time.

“Where are you taking me,” Chaeyoung whispered, and she sounded so giddy, so trusting.

For all she knew Dahyun was leading her into a trap, but it didn’t seem like that thought had even crossed her mind. It took Dahyun by surprise, just like their kiss. Just like almost everything Chaeyoung did.

Dahyun wanted to kiss her back. She wanted to push Chaeyoung against the nearest tree and kiss her until her brain was flooded with happiness and she’d forgotten exactly where she was.

But she couldn’t. She couldn’t switch off, couldn’t lose focus. If she was to kiss Chaeyoung, Dahyun would have to think of the sponsors, think of how to make it enticing for them.

There was no privacy here. No real way to express to Chaeyoung how she felt. She knew that when Chaeyoung kissed her, it wasn’t for the sponsors, or for anyone else but her and Dahyun. Chaeyoung did what she wanted, because she wanted to, not because it would please someone else. Dahyun wished she could kiss her like that.

But she couldn’t. So she would have to make do with this.

She reached their destination and dropped Chaeyoung’s hand, turning around to soak up the sight. Chaeyoung stood, gaping with an open mouth, at the beautiful luminous blue flowers surrounding them. They circled around the whole glade, creating a sense of privacy, a walled garden just for them. The blue light from the flowers lit up the grass, and reflected off Chaeyoung’s eyes.

“How did you-”

“I found this while you were drying off after our swim.” Dahyun grinned sheepishly. “Figured I owe you a good end to our first date.”

Was that joke to make Chaeyoung laugh, or the Capitol? Dahyun wasn’t sure, maybe both.

The fact that she couldn’t tell made her hesitant to kiss Chaeyoung. She wanted to, more than she’d ever wanted to kiss anyone else.

(Except for maybe Tzuyu on the rooftop.)

But she couldn’t. Chaeyoung deserved better than someone who was kissing her to entice their audience. So instead, Dahyun did this. She showed Chaeyoung the glade of beautiful luminous flowers, and savoured the look on her face. 

She loved Chaeyoung. It was terrifying how much she loved her. How much she wanted to protect her and keep that sense of joyful wonder in her eyes.

(Was this how Tzuyu felt? That night when she’d told Dahyun about her plan to die for them?)

Dahyun’s head was a mess, but looking at Chaeyoung was like a clear, sharp point. Dahyun liked her, liked looking at her, liked kissing her, liked everything about her really. And when she thought of their limited future together, and how much she wanted to keep her safe, it created this overwhelming feeling in her chest, rising all the way to her throat.

If that wasn’t love, then it was the closest she’d ever come to it. 

She went to say something, probably another cheesy line to try and coax a big toothed laugh out of Chaeyoung. But before she could even begin, she heard footsteps.

Chaeyoung hadn’t registered them yet, but Dahyun was already tugging her into the flowers. They had large stems, like sunflowers, but much thicker. She pulled Chaeyoung back enough until they hit a tree, then crouched down, scared to go any further.

Two girls walked into the clearing. They had their backs turned to them, but Dahyun recognised them from their hair. Mina and Sana.

She crouched there, less than three meters away from them, not daring to move a muscle. Her hand was still wrapped around Chaeyoung’s wrist, and she could feel her pulse beating rapidly. Dahyun gave her a comforting squeeze, but didn’t risk anything else.

“Oh,” Mina said, her voice so soft Dahyun could barely hear it. “It’s beautiful.”

“I thought you might like it.” There was enough fondness in Sana’s voice for honey to start dripping from it. “I found them yesterday while searching for tributes, and I wanted to show you and Momo. Now seemed like as good a time as any.”

“Thank you Sana.” Mina sounded on the verge of tears. “This is… I’m glad. I’m glad I got to see this.”

“Mina, what’s wrong?” Sana stepped forward, putting an arm on the younger girl’s shoulder.

Dahyun felt Chaeyoung tense up beside her, but she gripped her wrist tightly. Whatever happened, they couldn’t interfere. It was too risky.

“Are you going to kill me?” Mina said, her voice trembling.

Sana took a step back, and Dahyun could finally see the look on her face. She looked appalled, horrified. If they hadn’t already had a run in with Momo, Dahyun would have been more surprised by this.

It seemed that Momo wasn’t the only career with feelings beyond bloodlust and ambition. 

“Mina no.” Sana rushed over, enveloping the younger girl in a hug. “No I would- Never. I’m never going to kill you.”

“You have to in order to win.”

“Yeah.” Sana slowly let her go, and there was a sad smile on her face that was chillingly familiar to Dahyun. “Momo and I have been talking about it. We both care about you too much to kill you. So we’re not going to.”

“But then… how will you win?”

“Well, we’ll kill everyone else, and protect you, and then the three of us will just stay here. They can do a lot of things to us in the Arena, but they can’t make us turn on each other. We’ll survive off the land until they burn it all down.”

There was a pause. Dahyun glanced over at Chaeyoung, who looked just as surprised and confused as Dahyun felt.

“Us against the world,” Mina said, and suddenly it all felt too private for Dahyun to be witnessing. “You really mean it? You’re willing to risk losing just to protect me?”

“The only way I lose is if I have to kill you or Momo. And that’s just not happening.”

There were three seconds when nobody spoke. Dahyun instinctively held her breath, just in case.

“You make it sound so simple.” Mina murmured. 

Then Mina leant forward and kissed Sana. Dahyun averted her eyes, wishing she could switch off her ears somehow. She glanced over at Chaeyoung again, who was doing her best not to laugh.

Dahyun dragged a finger slowly across her neck, and Chaeyoung sobered up. Dahyun sent her a wink, and then, thankfully, the kissing stopped. She turned back and watched the duo slowly leave the clearing.

She stayed crouched down in the flowers, counting the seconds in her head until a full five minutes had passed. Only then did she flop down, letting out a sigh of relief.

“That was too close.”

“Agreed.” Chaeyoung slumped down next to her. “I thought for sure we’d ran far away from them.”

“I think the birds drove us back. The Gamemakers like using their monsters to push all the tributes together.”

“Lovely.” Chaeyoung grimaced. “You think that means Tzuyu is close by too?”

“For her sake, I really hope not.”

* * *

She’d barely moved all day. Her hiding spot was perfect, far enough not to catch the careers' eyes even when they left to search around for tributes. At one point the boy from District 1 had walked so close he was only a meter away from her. She had her arrow drawn and pointed at his neck the whole time, but he just kept walking, not even glancing around or checking the bush next to him. After all, who would be foolish enough to get that close to the career camp?

Chou Tzuyu, resident fool. Very much questioning her life choices at the moment.

There was one moment where she thought her cover had been blown. When the sun set, a loud noise rang out, and she prepared to fight. But it was just the broadcast of the tributes who had died today. 

The first name to appear was the boy from District 3. Not Chaeyoung. There was a heavy weight in Tzuyu's chest that dropped when she realised her friend was still alive. A much smaller relief when Minho was also not shown, and then when they showed the boy from 12, but not Dahyun, Tzuyu felt the last of that particular brand of tension leave her. 

10 tributes dead. The two Tzuyu cared about not among them. 

Chaeyoung and Dahyun were alive for now. If she managed to make this work, she could reunite with them, and protect them from the other tributes. 

Hope was a dangerous thing. But a tiny feather of it fluttered inside her all the same. 

She tensed up at the sound of rustling leaves. The boys from 2 and 4 came back from their tribute hunt, throwing their handmade torches onto the fire. It was too dark to see clearly, but even from the firelight Tzuyu could make out the sour expressions on their faces. It seemed like they hadn't managed to find anyone. 

It was almost amusing. How they'd walked right past her yet again. 

All six tributes sat around the campfire. Mina was already asleep, and Momo sat beside her, stroking her hair gently. There was some quiet discussion about who would take first watch, and while Tzuyu couldn't hear it well enough, the way all the boys lay down on their sleeping bags explained it just fine. 

Sana and Momo on first watch. Perfect. All she had to do was wait for them to change shifts. 

After the day she'd had, staying awake should not have been as challenging as it was. But with nothing to do but sit in silence, the adrenaline slowly began to fade, and the exhaustion set in. Tzuyu powered through it, determined not to miss her opportunity. 

There was a part of her, a part that had been screaming since she first came up with this idea, that asked her what the hell she thought she was doing. Not because of the danger, but because of whether she had the stomach to do this. To kill. 

She refused to acknowledge that part. At this point, hesitation would mean death. She needed to do this. She'd set her mind to it. There was no other way. 

Three hours after they'd settled down for the night, Momo and Sana went to bed, and the boys from 1 and 4 took over keeping watch. 

Neither of them were looking in Tzuyu's direction. But she'd have to crawl around one of them in order to reach the sleeping bag she needed to get to. 

Finally, it was time for the hard part. 

She lay flat on the ground, and quietly, painstakingly slowly, she began to crawl out from the bush she was hiding in. 

The District 4 boy was closest to her, but he squinted up at the trees instead of down at the grass. Tzuyu was confident that the darkness shrouded her well enough, that at her current distance she was practically invisible to him. But it was still a relief that he wasn't staring directly at her. 

It took her fifteen minutes to crawl five meters. She was behind the boy from District 4 now, the coldness of the earth at night seeping into her skin. 

He moved, and Tzuyu went still, holding her breath. But he just shifted on the ground, getting comfortable. When he started squinting out at the trees again, she deemed it safe to move. Inch by inch she crawled around them, until she was facing the back of the camp.

There were three sleeping bags in front of her, just a little uphill. The one on the left was empty, the one on the right held Sana, and the one in the middle held Mina. 

Tzuyu inched closer, conscious of her every breath, every move. The darkness didn't cover her as well now that she was close to the fire. If the boys turned around, if they glanced inside their campfire circle instead of out at the wilderness, they could very easily spot her. If she was too loud, Sana could wake up, and it would be over for her. 

So many things that could go wrong so quickly. No time to worry about any of them now. 

Even less time to worry about the morality of her actions. 

Tzuyu slipped her knife out of her pocket. She was so close now, close enough to see Mina's stray hairs waving in the wind. Close enough to hear her breathe softly. In and out. In and out. 

No more time to hesitate. 

Tzuyu reached forward, and clamped her free hand firmly down on Mina's mouth, with two fingers pinching her nose. Mina's eyes shot open, but it was too late. Tzuyu's knife was already digging into her throat, and with one sharp motion she slit it open. 

All of this happened in two seconds. Not one of the careers had noticed her. 

Tzuyu kept her hand on Mina's mouth, holding her still as her head shook. Tzuyu could feel her trying to breathe, but it was no use. She'd sliced too deep for Mina to live. 

Mina's hands came up, digging into Tzuyu's. Tzuyu held her silently, refusing to let her move or make a sound. Mina tried to wiggle her body, kick her legs, but the sleeping bag muffled the sounds. 

Sana frowned in her sleep, and shifted next to her. Tzuyu felt herself freeze, and a million thoughts flashed through her mind. Anger at herself for thinking this was a good idea, regret that she was going to die, sadness at the thought of never seeing Dahyun and Chaeyoung again. 

But by some miracle, Sana didn't wake up. 

She felt something hot and wet drop onto her fingers. Mina was looking at Sana, and Momo lying next to her. The tears ran down her face as she slowly stilled, her eyes going glassy and unfocused. 

Tzuyu held on for another few seconds, before she decided it was safe to let go. She removed her hand from Mina's lifeless body, and slowly slunk back into the darkness. 

She crawled away, leaving ten seconds between each inch she moved forward. She was determined not to mess up now. Somehow, against all odds, her plan had worked. But if they spotted her now it would all be for nothing. 

They didn't spot her. But that didn't stop her crawling across the ground until everything around her was black. When she finally looked back, the fire was barely visible through all the trees. She sat up and looked down at the knife she was clutching. It was too dark to see, but she could feel the blood mixing with the dirt on both her hands. 

She was a killer now. And it wasn't a kill done out of self defense, a heated panicked bid for survival. Mina was not an immediate threat to her. In fact she had barely been a threat at all. 

Tzuyu had murdered her. 

She wondered if she should be crying. If she should feel horrible. She did feel a little different, but mostly, she just felt… Relieved. Happy, even. That she was alive, and that she'd successfully lit the match that would burn the careers down. 

Did that make her a bad person? 

A cannon shot echoed through the forest, signalling Mina's death. Tzuyu's head snapped towards the firelight, but there was no movement. The careers remained blissfully unaware that the death that had just taken place happened inside their very camp. Tzuyu went to wipe her hands clean on her shirt, and her fingers brushed the Mockingjay pin. 

Oh. There was the guilt. 

Tzuyu closed her eyes and focused. She thought of Jihyo's face as she handed her the pin, of Mina's shy giggle when Momo and Sana goofed around during training. Of Momo's nervous smile as she glanced over at Tzuyu.

She took all the emotions those memories made her feel, and shoved them as far away as she could. They were useless to her right now. 

Instead, she focused on the memory of Dahyun and Chaeyoung smiling at her. Of hitting the centre of the target and watching the archery trainer stare at her in awe. Of Minho's jealous look and Sana's wary expression. 

She thought about what she had just accomplished. She'd snuck into the career camp and killed one of their allies right under their noses. Who else could have pulled that off? Maybe Dahyun, she was sneaky, but Tzuyu didn't think Dahyun would have been able to murder Mina like Tzuyu just did. 

Tzuyu wasn't on her level when it came to stealth, but years of crawling around in tight dark spaces, fishing broken parts out of heavy machinery, had served her well tonight. She remembered when the workday ended, how she always tried to squeeze herself into a corner and pretend she didn't exist, in case the foreman saw her lingering around and got angry. 

He got angry at her a lot. Called her useless, told her she had no valuable skills, that she was lucky to be alive and living in the factory. She wouldn't survive alone, not out in the real world. Not when she was so dumb and weak and helpless. Just a burden of a child, only alive thanks to him taking pity on her. 

Tzuyu felt a grin spread steadily across her face. 

_Well look at me now._

* * *

Nayeon's relatively calm day had grown hectic once those damn birds attacked. First she watched with bated breath as Chaeyoung and Dahyun fended them off. Then she began asking around, trying to confirm whether or not the poison in their beaks was lethal. 

It took a few favours for her to get an answer. Which was no. She considered sending them medicine anyway, but decided against it in the end. She had to play the long game, had to trust in Chaeyoung's ability to survive. 

She smiled as she watched Chaeyoung kiss Dahyun. They were sweet, and even though looking at their starry-eyed faces filled Nayeon with an aching nostalgia, she was happy for Chaeyoung. 

Some of the other mentors glared at her, grumbling about how she lucked out, getting a good actress for a tribute. Nayeon didn't rise to any of the bait. The less people knew that they weren't acting, (or at least Chaeyoung definitely wasn't, Nayeon still couldn't get a clear grasp on Dahyun) the better. 

She thought that would be the most exciting event of the day. The birds had been the big spectacle up the Gamemakers sleeves, and the deaths they provided had indeed been dramatically painful. All Dahyun and Chaeyoung had to do was lay low. 

So of course, they wandered into the same clearing as a career and Jihyo's girl from District 3.

The minutes that they spent right next to each other, terrifyingly close, was the most stress Nayeon had felt since her first tribute died. When Sana and Mina finally left, Nayeon could only pray that Dahyun would lead Chaeyoung away from the careers, and not towards them.

Thankfully, she did. When they finally made camp for the night, under a dense patch of bushes surrounded by nettles and poisonous plants, it was a decent distance away from the career camp. Credit where it was due, Dahyun had picked a good hiding place. Nayeon would certainly have had no interest in treading through thick nettles on the off chance that they didn't continue growing under the bushes. No human would look for a tribute there unless they were being incredibly meticulous about searching the area. 

With her girl settled for the night, Nayeon considered heading to bed for a few hours herself. She knew that Jihyo would wake her up if anything happened to Chaeyoung. 

But just as she was about to leave, something did, in fact, happen. 

But not to Chaeyoung. 

"Holy shit," Chungha whispered. 

"What is she _doing_ ," Her fellow District 1 mentor hissed. 

Nayeon could only stare, mouth open wide, as Tzuyu crawled over to where the careers were sleeping. Every eye in the room was watching her, disbelieving murmurs and pitying sighs filling the air. They thought she was a goner, that she was doing this out of desperation.

Tzuyu didn’t strike Nayeon as someone desperate.

She watched as Tzuyu slit Mina's throat as she slept. Then the girl slipped away, as if she had never been there in the first place. 

There was a stunned silence in the room.

Had that actually happened? Nayeon couldn't understand what Tzuyu had been thinking, or why she'd gone for Mina instead of the careers. But all her questions disappeared once she saw the look on Jihyo's face. 

With shaking fingers, Jihyo brushed silent tears off her cheeks. Her eyes never left Mina’s camera, and her chest rose and fell in a pattern Nayeon was all too familiar with. But they'd always been in private when Jihyo broke down like this before. And seeing her fists clench and shake, watching her bite her lip as she held back sobs, Nayeon felt her stomach drop. 

"Jihyo-" 

She was not prepared for the heated look Jihyo shot her way. The intensity of her glare made Nayeon physically step back. 

Jihyo strode past her. Nayeon spared one last glance at Chaeyoung, slumbering peacefully, before rushing out and following Jihyo down the hall.

"Jihyo!" 

"I'm sorry Nayeon." Jihyo's voice was tight, and she didn't slow down even for a second. "I know this isn't your fault. But I got too attached again. And it's your ally who killed her. I'm just going to need some space."

"Jihyo wait!" They were almost at the elevator.

The doors opened, and Jihyo stepped in. But she turned and looked at Nayeon, stopping them with her foot before they closed. Her arms were crossed, face carefully neutral. Nayeon didn't take it personally. 

"What is it," Jihyo asked with strained calmness. 

"Do you think Tzuyu was still the right call? To give the pin to?" 

Nayeon regretted the question the second it left her mouth. She hadn't meant to be so insensitive, to rub salt in the wound, but judging by the appalled look on Jihyo's face that was exactly what she'd ended up doing. 

She'd seen a lot of Jihyo over the years. She'd seen sides of Jihyo she was fairly certain no one else was allowed to witness. But she'd never seen Jihyo look at her with disgust. Not until today. 

"Goodbye Nayeon. Don't visit me tonight."

"Jihyo I'm-" The elevator doors closed. "... sorry."

Nayeon sighed and kicked the door half heartedly. She hadn't meant to sound so callous. She just… 

She just needed to know. What Tzuyu's actions meant for Chaeyoung, and for her. 

It didn't have to be the Mockingjay pin. Nayeon knew that. Next year a tribute wearing a token from 5 or 7 or 12 could be the one to spark a fire, either accidentally or on purpose. These things couldn't be predicted and there was only so much Nayeon could do from her position of a Victor. 

But the Mockingjay pin belonged to Jeongyeon. And Nayeon had been using it as a secret symbol ever since she died. If the resistance managed to grow big enough to need a sign, she wanted it to be this. 

She wanted Jeongyeon's emblem to be the last thing the Capitol saw as it burnt to the ground. 

* * *

Tzuyu woke up to the sound of screaming. 

She'd found a sturdy tree to sleep in, overlooking the career campfire. Her perch hid her from view behind the leaves of the surrounding trees, but there were enough gaps for her to peek out. She'd tied herself down so she wouldn't fall off the branch, and now she hastily untied herself as the screaming continued.

The sun was barely risen over the artificial sky, but it was light enough out for Tzuyu to clearly see what she was doing with the knots she’d tied. She couldn't see who was screaming, but it was a female voice. Sana or Momo? 

"You bastards!" That was Momo. "Why the fuck did you kill her?" 

"We didn't kill her!" That was the boy from District 1. "I don't know what happened!" 

"Oh so she just slit her own throat in the night?" 

Tzuyu shuffled along her branch until she could see the five of them. They were standing in a circle, Mina's corpse between them. Tzuyu was surprised the Capitol hadn't collected the body yet. Maybe they also had been waiting for the careers to wake up and see it. They loved a good show after all. 

"Look I don't know what happened, maybe it's a Capitol trick." The boy from District 2 put his hands up placatingly. "But let's not go crazy OK? Yeah she's dead, but let's face it. She was kind of dragging us down. I don't know who killed her, but we were lucky that they only went after the deadweight."

Sana's spear hit his chest the second he finished talking. 

The campsite exploded into motion. Tzuyu watched in fascinated horror as the remaining two boys fought the remaining two girls. It reminded her of that time she'd hidden out in an abandoned house one night, after the foreman had kicked her out for 'slacking'. The squatter already living there had not been pleased, and had dangled six year old Tzuyu over a pond of piranhas to threaten her. 

Why there had been a pond of piranhas in the abandoned house's garden remained a mystery to Tzuyu. But the threat hadn't worked, because Tzuyu didn't know what piranhas were. So the man had pricked his own finger and dropped the blood into the water to show her. 

Watching the careers now, she saw echoes of the fish's feeding frenzy in the way they brutally slashed and mauled at each other. The boy from District 1 was the first to go down, as Momo's left hand axe sliced his neck open and her right hand axe buried itself in her district partner's head a second later. But in that second the District 2 boy, still with a spear in his chest, managed to slash a deep cut in Momo's leg. She stumbled, nicking her arm on his sword as she fell down against a tree. 

Sana was left to fight her district partner alone. And while in the training room she had the upper hand, the boy from 1 had managed to land serious wounds on her and Momo before his death. Tzuyu could see how much slower she was, how she favoured her left leg. The boy saw the same things, and with three quick moves he managed to disarm her. 

Momo screamed as Sana's second spear clattered to the ground, and Tzuyu realised she must have been the one who screamed earlier. As she made this observation, Sana's district partner bludgeoned her in the side of the head with his baton, and she crumpled to the ground. 

Three dead. Two to go. 

The District 4 boy shuffled over to Momo. Tzuyu could see that he was limping, but he was still in better shape than his fellow career. If Tzuyu didn't interfere, he would survive this. 

She picked up her bow and notched an arrow. From her current distance and angle, not to mention the leaves and branches surrounding her, she wasn't confident in her ability to make it a headshot. 

So she shot him in the back instead. And then as he spun around she shot him in the chest. And then as he began to run towards her, she shot him in the chest again, and he stopped running, falling onto his knees. 

Tzuyu climbed down, still careful not to rush things. If she fell and broke her neck now, well that would just be an embarrassing way to die. 

The boy saw her coming. He gurgled frantically, blood leaking out of his mouth. Tzuyu debated whether to use an arrow or try and get close enough to stab him. In the end, she decided not to risk it. She could just pluck the arrows out of his corpse. 

She pulled her bow taut. The boy was waving his hands frantically, coughing out pleads for mercy. 

Tzuyu shot him in the head. A quick death. 

She plucked her arrows out and kept walking, over to where Momo was still leaning against the tree. She was bleeding heavily, her face white with blood loss. Tzuyu had no idea if her injuries were fatal. 

Momo looked up at her, and her wide eyed shock combined with how she was curled into herself made her suddenly look much more vulnerable to Tzuyu.

“You.” There were tears in Momo’s eyes. “You did this. You killed Mina, didn’t you?”

Tzuyu didn’t answer. Best to let Momo die without knowing for sure that she’d killed her allies based on Tzuyu’s manipulation. Tzuyu wasn’t cruel. She was just trying to help her friends survive.

Her hands were shaking as she notched an arrow and pulled the bow back. Momo’s face contorted, and she slumped over in grim acceptance of her fate. Tzuyu remembered the shy girl she’d seen during training, who’d keep glancing over at her, watching her shoot arrows with an almost innocent type of wonder.

Why was this so hard? She’d killed Mina, who was far more gentle and harmless than Momo. With Momo dead, the careers would be gone. Tzuyu could join up with her two friends and together they’d be the strongest team in the game. They could handle the other tributes one by one.

And all she needed to do was shoot Momo. An arrow through the eye. Clean and simple.

Tzuyu’s hands shook even more. 

“Why did you do it?” 

Momo didn’t sound scared, or angry. She just sounded… hurt.

“I understand wanting to kill me or Sana, but why Mina? She was _good._ ” Momo’s voice cracked. “She didn’t hurt anyone! Why did you kill her like that?”

What was this feeling? It wasn’t guilt, or fear. Tzuyu was well familiar with both of those. This was something different, something new. Like a mixture of both.

And why was it happening now? Why couldn’t she just fire the damn arrow?

Tzuyu lowered her bow. Momo didn’t move, her wounds too bad for any show of strength. She stayed there, staring at Tzuyu with those dark, accusing eyes. She was still bleeding. Probably too much for anyone to survive. Momo would die anyway soon, she was almost certain of it.

Tzuyu turned and ran. She raced through the forest, no clear plan other than to get far away from the carnage she had created.

A few seconds after she left, four cannon shots rang out through the arena.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: A reunion and some light stabbing


	8. Chapter 8

Four cannon shots. Dahyun tensed up when she heard them. 

Chaeyoung shared a worried look with her. They both knew that four in such quick succession wasn’t a random accident. It was a massacre. The two most important questions right now were who had done it and how far away were they?

For question number one, the answer was most likely the careers or some new trick of the Gamemakers. Both options were not good, but Dahyun would prefer the careers and their predictable violence over a new type of enemy. For question number two, the woods surrounding them  _ seemed  _ peaceful, but Dahyun didn’t trust that. She had to think three steps ahead of everyone else. It was the only way she could survive.

And more importantly, Chaeyoung was counting on her.

(Since when had that become the most important thing?)

“Shit!”

Dahyun whirled around at Chaeyoung’s muffled curse. In the time that they had known each other she’d only heard Chaeyoung curse twice. Whenever it happened, it was usually a very bad sign.

“It’s ok,” Chaeyoung whispered. “Just slipped a little. Muddy floor.”

Dahyun frowned. She hadn’t thought the forest was that bad.

Chaeyoung moved determinedly forward, smiling confidently in response to Dahyun’s anxious gaze. But Dahyun could see through the act. She was gripping the mace so tightly her knuckles were white, and her left leg, the one her District partner had stomped on, had a noticeable limp. Chaeyoung hadn’t spoken about it since it happened, and Dahyun thought that after the first night it had healed from the bruising. But now it looked like she’d twisted it, or jolted it badly, right back to the way it had been after the bloodbath. Chaeyoung was unable to hide the pain, and Dahyun had a sinking feeling that it had never really fixed itself properly. Chaeyoung had just been ignoring it.

If it came down to a physical fight, Chaeyoung would still probably do better than Dahyun. But that wasn’t saying much, and the fact that they wouldn’t be able to run away easily was troubling.

She’d been content up until now to let Chaeyoung manage her own pain and talk about it in her own time. But there could very well be a new type of savage beast on the loose hunting them down, so Dahyun was going to have to be a little pushy.

“How bad is it?” She nodded down at Chaeyoung’s leg.

“It’s fine.” Chaeyoung’s response was predictably calm. “Just twisted it a little back there.”

“Chaeyoung.” Dahyun made her voice match Chaeyoung’s calm tone. “You’re limping badly. If we keep walking it could hurt your leg even more. Do you want to try and make a splint for it or something? Or find a place to hide?”

“I’m fine!” Chaeyoung insisted. “It’s just a little pain, barely hurts at all. I can still keep us safe.”

She kept walking forward, but Dahyun stopped, waiting patiently until Chaeyoung turned to look at her. At first Chaeyoung glared at her, but Dahyun kept her gaze steady and calm, and slowly Chaeyoung’s face crumpled.

“Please don’t leave me,” she whispered.

To say Dahyun was stunned was an understatement. Was that why Chaeyoung didn’t want to tell her about her pain? Was she scared that Dahyun would abandon her the second she became a liability?

Looking at the fear in her eyes, it seemed so. There was only one appropriate response Dahyun could think of. 

She leant forward and flicked Chaeyoung’s forehead.

Chaeyoung yelped. “Hey!” 

“Idiot.” Dahyun smiled fondly. “What part of everything we’ve been through made you think I would just up and leave you at the first sign of trouble? Your leg is a little battered, so what? I’m not going to just abandon you to die because of it.”

Chaeyoung looked at her, as if she was searching Dahyun’s face for some hidden truth. Some indication that she was lying, or just saying this for the sponsors. 

The sponsors still influenced a lot of what she said, a lot of how she acted. Dahyun had no shame admitting that to herself. But they were becoming more and more superficial, like an afterthought as opposed to instinct. Her core motivations, core decisions, they were becoming motivated by…

It was a lot scarier to admit that part. Even to herself. But she looked at Chaeyoung, and she knew that Chaeyoung could see some echo of the truth in Dahyun’s eyes.

“Alright,” Chaeyoung said. “Help me make a splint.”

Dahyun busied herself quickly, looking around the forest for pieces of wood. She broke off a small branch while Chaeyoung sat down on the ground, wincing as she gently prodded her ankle and took her shoes and socks off. Dahyun handed her the branch and then went in search of another, ignoring how Chaeyoung’s eyes were still focused on her. If she kept moving, kept focused on survival, then she wouldn’t have to think about how even if Chaeyoung broke both her legs, Dahyun would rather carry her around the arena than leave her side.

Because that was not a conversation she wanted to have. Not now, maybe not ever. Not unless the world magically changed and they weren’t in a fight to the death, then maybe Dahyun would feel safe enough to be completely honest about her feelings.

She handed the second half of the splint to Chaeyoung, then crouched down to wrap Chaeyoung’s socks around the two wooden sticks as Chaeyoung held them steady. It was a lot harder to pretend Chaeyoung wasn’t staring at her when she was gently cradling her leg. Every time the skin of her fingers brushed against Chaeyoung’s ankle, she felt this  _ thing  _ between them grow.

“All this time, and I still can’t understand you,” Chaeyoung said softly. 

It was impossible not to look up when someone was talking directly at you. Even though Dahyun had time to prepare herself, she was still taken aback by the soft fondness in Chaeyoung’s eyes.

“I thought you were a liability when we first met, and even at the start of the arena I was worried about what to do if you or Tzuyu got hurt. If I should abandon you or protect you. And now here we are, and I feel like a stupid arrogant jerk. District 1 girl with years of training and I’ve been the biggest liability out of the three of us. If the roles were reversed, I still don’t know what I would have done.”

“Wow.” Dahyun forced a light grin onto her face. “You really know how to make a girl feel special.”

“I just don’t understand. But I’m grateful. Really, you mean a lot to me.”

There was so much Dahyun wanted to say to that. More than anything she wanted to cry. Instead she let her light grin become a smirk, mindful as always of the cameras watching their every move.

“I think you made that much clear back in the cave.”

Chaeyoung blushed, and Dahyun relaxed a little. Back to familiar territory of bantering and flirt-teasing.

Although, there was tension there. A new kind. As if Chaeyoung was expecting Dahyun to have more of a reaction to what she said. Maybe to run away, or to fight.

But what Chaeyoung said made perfect sense. She was looking at this alliance the way Dahyun should be. Chaeyoung and Tzuyu were good people, people she cared for, and they had to die for Dahyun to win. Just like all the other tributes. Chaeyoung being pragmatic was not something that made Dahyun feel horrified or appalled. Just… wistful. And maybe a little scared, but more of herself than Chaeyoung.

But thinking any further on that led to thoughts of Tzuyu, and decisions Dahyun was nowhere near ready to acknowledge. So instead, she focused on the splint. It was far from her best work, but she was working with very rough materials. Back home she usually had a few scraps of linen and a pin to fasten the whole thing together. Here she had two socks and a rope.

Chaeyoung seemed grateful all the same. There was a moment, as Dahyun gently eased her leg down onto the ground, where she thought Chaeyoung was going to lean forward and kiss her again.

She didn’t. And Dahyun didn’t understand why that left her feeling disappointed.

(Only she did. But she was still firmly pushing those feelings down.

She loved Chaeyoung. She could admit that. What those feelings meant for her, and for them, was a little harder to pin down.)

“We should go,” Chaeyoung said quietly. “We need to find somewhere safe to rest. We’re too exposed here.”

“Excellent idea.” Dahyun smiled, standing up. “Unfortunately, it’s too late.”

“What-”

“There’s two sets of footsteps running towards us.” Dahyun pulled Chaeyoung up. “If we run now they’ll still be able to chase us. Here’s hoping you still look intimidating even with an injured leg.”

Chaeyoung caught on quickly. She always did. Dahyun felt strangely calm as Chaeyoung stuck the mace out in front of them and pushed Dahyun behind her, right when two boys skidded to a halt a few meters away from them.

For a moment, it was quiet. Dahyun squinted at them, trying to remember why they looked familiar. One of them was from District 6, and Dahyun remembered him because of how young he was. The first time she’d seen him, she’d felt overwhelming pity, because he couldn’t be older than twelve. The other boy…

Oh. That was Tzuyu’s District partner.

The boy, Minho, Dahyun remembered now. He looked nervous, a similar recognition in his own eyes as they darted between her and Chaeyoung. He knew they were Tzuyu’s allies. It meant something to him.

The other boy just saw them as enemies. He let out a yell, and charged at them, ignoring his friend’s warning.

“Felix don't,” Minho cried, but it was too late.

Dahyun gaped as he pulled out a fully functioning blowtorch, but despite the powerful weapon in his hand he was clearly inexperienced. Chaeyoung stepped to the left of his strike and jabbed the butt of her mace under his chin, stunning him and knocking him back.

She went to deliver a blow to the head, but Dahyun put her hand on Chaeyoung’s shoulder, and she stopped. Minho was staring at them with wide eyes. He looked terrified, like they were as dangerous as the careers and the Capitol mutations roaming the forest.

Dahyun had never had anyone fear her before. 

She didn’t like it.

“It’s ok.” She spoke, softly, as if soothing a trapped animal. “We don’t want to fight.”

“We don’t?” Chaeyoung raised an eyebrow at her.

“We don’t,” Dahyun said firmly. 

All three of them were now staring at her in complete confusion, and Dahyun desperately racked her brain to try and come up with some logical reason to spare their life. 

Other than the truth. Which was that deep in her gut, it just felt  _ wrong. _

She looked at Minho again. He was young, younger than her. Skinny like Tzuyu, but trembling and doe eyed where Tzuyu was calm and sharp. Her eyes caught onto a patch of white sticking out of his pocket, and it gave her an idea.

“What we want is bandages. You got any?”

Felix was still glaring up at Chaeyoung, but Minho didn’t hesitate to take the roll of linen out of his pocket and toss it over to Dahyun. She caught it, smiling at him.

“Alright then. You give us bandages, my friend here doesn’t kill your friend for trying to attack her. Fair deal?”

She watched Minho’s Adam’s apple bob up and down, and then he nodded. Felix scrambled up off the ground, still eyeing them suspiciously.

“Why not just kill us and take the bandages?” 

His voice was high and clear, unbroken. He was so  _ young,  _ and it was all Dahyun could think of when looking at him.

“Shut up,” Minho hissed.

“Good question,” Chaeyoung said.

Great. All eyes were on Dahyun again.

“You’re Tzuyu’s District partner,” She said at last. “We’re Tzuyu’s friends. I’d rather not kill you unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

It probably didn’t make much sense, but Dahyun didn’t really care. The important thing was that Minho accepted it, because he took Felix’s hand and ran off. Dahyun watched him stumble through the shrubbery, still shaking like the leaves surrounding him.

He was soft, that boy. Soft and kind and innocent. Dahyun hoped his death was quick. Felix too.

“Why didn’t we kill them,” Chaeyoung asked quietly, once they were alone again.

“Did you want to?”

“No. But it was the practical thing to do. Less tributes is better for us.”

“Maybe. But they weren’t a threat to us. No point in senseless death, right?”

Chaeyoung looked at her. Dahyun wondered what she saw, and why it made her shake her head slightly. Like she was coming out of a daze.

“Right,” Chaeyoung agreed. “Guess we keep moving.”

And so they did.

* * *

Tzuyu still didn’t understand. Why she was running, why she felt this churning in her gut. Why killing Hirai Momo, of all the tributes, had proven to be too much for her. 

Mina. Sana. The career boys. All that blood either directly or indirectly on her hands, and none of it had really mattered until Momo had looked her in the eye with that betrayed, wounded puppy look. Like Tzuyu was a bad person for killing people instead of just curling up and agreeing to die.

She paused to lean against a tree and catch her breath. Her lungs were burning, and her hands still felt sticky, caked with dirt and blood.

_ It doesn’t matter.  _ She told herself.  _ Momo has probably bled out now. It’s done. It’s over. Go find Chaeyoung and Dahyun. _

That’s right. It didn’t matter whether she was evil or good, whether she owed Mina anything for killing her. By the end of the games she would be dead anyways, the slate wiped clean.

All she could do now was try and make the remaining time count. Protect Dahyun and Chaeyoung, relish the time she had left with them. Meeting them, being able to spend time with them during training and on the roof, it was something she already felt blessed to have experienced. But she wanted to see them again, wanted to feel the euphoria of just existing next to them. Of being loved. Of having people to protect and a purpose in life.

Their kindness and care was a gift they had given to her unconditionally. In a world where everything came with a condition, where everyone who ever cared about her only did so because she was useful, Tzuyu understood how precious it was to have people like Chaeyoung and Dahyun. She could prove herself deserving of their love.

But first, she had to find them.

She’d ran off in the direction she’d come from last night, towards the Cornucopia. Dahyun and Chaeyoung would probably be further away from it than the Careers had been. Which meant she’d have to backtrack.

Tzuyu decided right away not to walk straight back into the massacre she had orchestrated. She’d take the long way around, just in case they were hiding out nearby. Unlikely, but it was her best option.

The woods to the left of the career camp were harder to walk through. The shrubbery was thicker, scratching at Tzuyu’s calves through her uniform. Dahyun would probably be able to navigate this place better. It was a good place to hide, if you knew how.

Tzuyu was trying very hard not to get her hopes up. It was entirely possible, probable even, that Chaeyoung and Dahyun were on the other side of the arena. But still, the thought that they could just be a few meters away…

Something rustled in the bushes ahead of her. Tzuyu froze.

“Chaeyoung? Dahyun?”

She didn’t know why she expected it to be them. Why she thought any of this would work out well. Maybe it was the high of successfully taking down the careers. Maybe it was just her stupid, hopeful heart. 

Either way, when the bear burst out of the bushes and barrelled into her, Tzuyu was taken completely by surprise.

It knocked her down, and the jolt of her back hitting the ground snapped her into reality. Dahyun and Chaeyoung weren’t going to run over and give her tearful hugs. She was going to get mauled to death by a bear unless she found some way to get out of this.

The bear was too heavy to push off, and it roared down at her, it’s mouth wide open. It’s breath smelt like a mixture of rotting meat and wet dog. Tzuyu had fought with rabid animals before for scraps of food back home, but she had never encountered a bear.

Her hand went to her pocket, fingers wrapping around the handle of her knife. It was all she could do with the bear still pinning her down. It raised one paw to swipe at her which freed up her left arm enough for her to grab the knife. She ignored the paw entirely, knowing that a pitiful knife would likely not be enough to stop it. Instead, with all the speed and energy she could muster, she surged upwards. Ignoring the pain of it’s claws raking across her right shoulder, she jammed the knife right into it’s open maw. 

The bear roared, but Tzuyu screamed louder, pushing the knife upwards with all her strength. She felt herself get lifted up, her rucksack and bow slipping off and onto the ground as hot painful claws tore at her back. Her right hand free, she reached up to gouge it into the bear’s left eye, digging it in as far as she could while her other hand still gripped the knife wedged between the animal’s jaws. It shook her violently, until momentum forced her finger to slip out. Her quiver of arrows went flying off her shoulders with the force of the swing.

She wrenched the knife from between it’s jaws as her arms flew through the air. The bear kept her firmly in its grasp, still reluctant to let go of it’s prey despite all the damage she was causing. Tzuyu swung the knife back, then stabbed it forward, burrowing it as far as it would go into the bear’s neck.

The bear roared again, huge yellow teeth right up next to her face. Tzuyu felt a bizarre moment where she regretted being born human. All these muscles and brains and bones, all wrapped in such a fragile, breakable way. It would be so easy for the bear to kill her now. Laughably so.

But for whatever reason, the stab to the neck seemed to have worked. The bear let her go, and she tumbled back onto the ground. 

It shook itself off, and Tzuyu watched, gasping desperately through what felt like a thousand cuts and bruises, waiting for it to resume it’s attack. Instead, it shook itself, and grumbled, as if confused by what had happened, and the pain it was in. Then it ambled off back the way it came, leaving her be.

Tzuyu didn’t wait around to see if it would come back for another round. She forced herself to get up, ignoring the heaviness and aching in her limbs as she grabbed her rucksack, bow and arrows. Half stumbling half running away, she managed to put a decent amount of distance between her and the bear before collapsing against a tree.

There were ugly gashes along her shoulders and back, dark red and bleeding. She couldn’t see all of them, but she could certainly feel it. She opened her rucksack, pulling out the canister of water. Water was good for cuts right? But she should probably only use it for the worst ones.

She wished she knew more about healing. Back in District 8, the general attitude had been to walk off whatever injury or sickness she had. If she was too sick to work, or suffered too great an injury, then she was probably dead anyways. No point wasting medicine on her. One time Tzuyu had gotten a fever, and she’d just curled up outside the factory until she could walk again, and back to work she went.

She knew that people had treatments, and bandages, and ways to heal wounds like hers. She just didn’t have a clue what those ways were. But she had water, and that was a start. Water would help it not to get infected.

She hissed at the sting as she carefully poured a tiny amount of water onto the most painful cuts. She didn’t like pain like this, the kind that was so huge, so drilling, that you couldn’t just push past and ignore it. You had to marinate in it.

Tzuyu had a feeling this was karma, for killing Mina. Everything had consequences, she knew that. Every mistake she’d made, every bad thing she’d done, back in District 8 she had always been punished for it. But back there she knew the rules, knew what she’d done wrong, and knew more or less how she was going to have to pay for it. Here it was less clear. Right and wrong, the rules, who had the authority to punish her. None of it felt right. If anyone had the right to hurt her, it should have been Mina’s loved ones, not some random bear.

But with Mina’s loved ones also dead by her hand or outside the arena, Tzuyu figured the universe must have just decided that a bear would do. She might have disagreed with that, but well, she was in a little too much pain to have a debate with some random cosmic force about their justice system.

It didn’t matter anyway. She’d kill all the remaining tributes and take all the pain that came with it as long as Chaeyoung and-

...as long as Chaeyoung got to live. 

Because Dahyun couldn’t live too. Despite the fact that Tzuyu would walk willingly into hell if it would allow them both to survive. Dahyun had to die for Chaeyoung to win, and even acknowledging this in her head made Tzuyu feel sick. Out of everything that confused her about their current situation, Dahyun’s future death was the most clear cut case of  _ wrong _ .

It should be both of them. But it wasn’t, and so Tzuyu would have to trust them to handle it. She’d get them to the finish line, and then bow out, and let them make their own choices.

(And deep down she knew that Dahyun would be the one to push Chaeyoung across the line. But Tzuyu wouldn’t take that decision from her. 

It was the best she could do.)

She pushed herself against the tree, gritting her teeth as the pain flared up. She had to keep moving, had to keep living, and fighting, until the end. This was her purpose, and after fourteen years of aimless surviving she refused to die now without completing this one simple goal.

_ Get up.  _ She hissed at herself.  _ Get up. You have to find them. You have to protect them. You have to kill- _

Her shoulder caught on a rough piece of bark, and Tzuyu tasted her last ration bar in her mouth as the pain flared up. Her vision went white, then grey, and then, mercifully, black.

She wasn’t sure how long she was unconscious. Long enough for her body to grow cold and stiff and numb. When she woke up to the sound of yelling, it took her a few seconds to reach for her knife.

But then she realised who was kneeling in front of her, looking at her with concern. Like she mattered, like her life mattered.

It had to be a hallucination. There was no way Chaeyoung was actually here, staring at Tzuyu with that vulnerable empathy she always wore.

“Dahyun.” The hallucination spoke. “Do we have any bandages left?”

Another figure squatted down, and Tzuyu felt a heat grow behind her eyes when she realised this was real. Because Chaeyoung’s fingers were warm on her face and the concern on Dahyun’s face was far too detailed and raw to be drawn from Tzuyu’s imagination.

“We have a few.” Dahyun leant forward, running her hand through Tzuyu’s knotted hair. “Hang tight Tzuyu. We’ll get you patched up.”

They looked thinner, Tzuyu noticed, still in a numb haze of shock. Thinner, and worn. It was in their eyes, and in the set of their jaws. The Games were tiring, and harrowing. But they were alive, and they didn’t look badly injured. Chaeyoung’s leg was in a splint, but they seemed more concerned about Tzuyu, which was a good sign.

Their concern was understandable. Her hands were still caked in dried blood and dirt, her face was splattered with it too. She had those scratches from the bear up and down her back and shoulders, and her knees were ripped and dirty. Overall, and especially judging from the mixture of horror and concern she could see on the faces in front of her, she had a feeling she looked about as bad as she felt. 

“Don’t worry,” She croaked out, gesturing to a long streak of blood running up her arm. “Most of it isn’t mine.”

* * *

Tzuyu was alive. Tzuyu was here, and she was  _ alive. _

Chaeyoung didn’t even question why it brought her so much relief to see Tzuyu smiling up at her. She cared for her and Dahyun, and there was no point chiding herself about it. Someone she cared about deeply was still breathing, and that was not something she needed to feel conflicted about.

But Tzuyu also looked like she’d just fought her way out of a pit of careers. Had she been caught in the massacre earlier? Chaeyoung’s stomach churned at the thought.

“Tzuyu,” Dahyun said gently, as she poured some water mixed with iodine onto Tzuyu’s cuts. “Try not to cry out please.”

Tzuyu winced at the sting, but then she caught Chaeyoung’s eye and she brightened up all over again. Chaeyoung didn’t understand it, how she could make someone so happy just by… existing? It made sense with her family, but with Tzuyu it felt different. Tzuyu was in horrible pain. Tzuyu had clearly just been through a brutal ordeal. Seeing Chaeyoung, a friend she hadn’t spoken to since before the Games began, should not be enough to cause such a big smile on her face.

She didn’t understand Tzuyu. But she didn’t understand Dahyun either, and she’d learnt that it wasn’t a bad thing. She cared about them. Maybe more than just ‘cared’ if she was being completely honest. She didn’t have to understand them to…

Love them. Was that what this was? Maybe with Dahyun. But with Tzuyu, it felt too ridiculous to call it that. Her mother had read her Romeo and Juliet as a child, and Chaeyoung had always scoffed at how they had fallen in love so quickly. It was impossible, she insisted, for people to truly love each other when they barely knew each other. Romeo and Juliet were just delusional and impulsive. Her mother had gently explained that maybe that was the point. They were young, and silly, and they didn’t deserve to die for it. Their love story was a tragedy.

Chaeyoung had always told herself that she wasn’t going to fall like that. When she fell in love, it would be with someone mature, and wise, and kind, who swept her off her feet and made her feel alive like nothing else did. They would show each other the world, no matter how much the Capitol tried to confine them.

Her father called her a hopeless romantic. But he proudly insisted that she got it from him, to which her mother simply laughed and agreed.

Chaeyoung missed them. There was a familiar pang in her heart every time she thought about her family. But strangely enough, thinking about them was easier than thinking about her current predicament. Not the Games, that was grim and depressing and straightforward. These feelings she had for the two girls in front of her, however, were the exact opposite.

“How did this happen,” She asked, because thinking about it any longer would drive her mad. “Did you get in a fight?”

“I fought a bear.”

Tzuyu’s pout as she said this, combined with the sad puppy dog eyes she wore, made Chaeyoung laugh incredulously. She sobered up once she realised Tzuyu was dead serious.

“A  _ bear? _ ”

Tzuyu nodded sadly, but then she smiled. “I won though. Actually it was more of a draw. But I made it back off. So I’m counting that as a win.”

“That’s…” Dahyun shared a look with Chaeyoung, who just raised her eyebrows and gave a small shrug. “Incredible. We’re really glad you survived that.”

“That’s not all!” Despite her wounds, Tzuyu seemed so full of life, bouncing up energetically with one hand in the air. 

Chaeyoung almost chuckled as Dahyun wrapped the bandage a little tighter, clearly nervous about how animated Tzuyu was and how it affected her wounds. What Tzuyu said next wiped that hint of a smile clean away.

“I killed the careers!”

There was silence. Dahyun’s eyes grew so wide it looked like they were going to pop out of her head. Chaeyoung wanted to say something, but her mouth was hanging open and no words would come out.

“You killed the careers,” Dahyun repeated, after a solid ten seconds of stunned silence.

“Technically I made them kill each other.” Tzuyu grinned, and suddenly the blood splattered on her face had a whole new meaning. “I killed Mina, and the girls thought the boys did it so they began to fight. I let them thin each other out, and then I killed the last one standing.”

“So…” Chaeyoung struggled to wrap her mind around what Tzuyu was saying, or why she seemed so content and  _ proud  _ of it. “They’re all dead? All five of them?”

“Yep.” Tzuyu smiled. “Six including Mina. Well actually… just five. I left Momo bleeding out but I didn’t check to make sure she’s dead. So we might still have some trouble left.”

Chaeyoung sat there, quietly absorbing it all. She glanced over at Dahyun, hoping for some semblance of normalcy, something she could relate to because Tzuyu’s smile was practically eerie. But Dahyun was staring straight at Tzuyu, and she looked as stunned and off-balance as she did back when Chaeyoung kissed her for the first time.

With no proper response, they just let Tzuyu talk, filling them in on how the Games had been for her. The story of how she’d taken out the Careers remained the most incredible, but the fight with the bear was a close second. When Tzuyu finished, Dahyun had recovered enough to speak, and with only a slight tremble to her voice she explained how she and Chaeyoung had fared since the bloodbath.

Chaeyoung noticed that Dahyun was careful not to bring up the kiss, or any of the flirtations between the two of them. Everything was framed in a strictly platonic light.

Chaeyoung wanted to say that she didn’t understand why, but…

Well.

The way Tzuyu was looking at Dahyun, the way she looked at Chaeyoung, she seemed so…  _ devoted _ . Chaeyoung didn’t understand it, but she hadn’t grown up like Tzuyu and Dahyun had, so she trusted Dahyun to handle it better than she could. If Dahyun felt that their romance might make Tzuyu feel hurt or excluded, that was something Chaeyoung wanted to avoid at all cost.

She wondered why. As Dahyun finished bringing Tzuyu up to speed and the three of them decided to search for more water, Chaeyoung watched them both carefully. She liked understanding herself, having clarity with each decision and action she made. And so she wanted to know.

Was she scared of Tzuyu?

They found another little pond, and Tzuyu immediately volunteered to test the water. Dahyun rolled her eyes fondly and stepped in with her, and Chaeyoung watched as Tzuyu lit up again, like she had back on the roof, anytime Dahyun or Chaeyoung had shown her the tiniest bit of affection. Dahyun splashed Tzuyu playfully, and Tzuyu’s eyes widened. Then she laughed, and splashed Dahyun back.

It was ridiculous. Laughter like that had no place in the Games. And Chaeyoung loved it, loved how joyful they were.

She wasn’t scared of Tzuyu. Chaeyoung just didn’t understand how someone could be so pure and innocent like this, while also being so calm about killing other children. But the look in Tzuyu’s eyes as Dahyun gently splashed water back and forth with her, it was so happy and free and unburdened, so filled with a wondrous type of light. Despite all her wounds, all that she’d done, Tzuyu looked so content messing around in the pond. It was completely alien to Chaeyoung, something she could never understand.

It was beautiful. 

They were beautiful.

Tzuyu caught her staring, and Chaeyoung tried not to panic as they made eye contact. A blush slowly crept over Tzuyu’s cheeks, and she smiled at Chaeyoung, a full hearty smile that stretched all the way through her cheeks and up to her eyes.

Chaeyoung felt her heart flutter. 

She’d never understood people who compared women to the sun. The sun was nice, but it was bright and burning and looking at it for too long caused pain and blindness. The metaphor just didn’t make sense to her in the slightest.

But looking at Tzuyu now, for some reason the word wouldn’t leave her mind. She didn’t know how else to describe it. Tzuyu just had this brightness in her, a different kind to Dahyun’s. Dahyun’s was cheerful and controlled and Chaeyoung admired it and fed off it. Tzuyu’s was warm and steady and Chaeyoung wanted nothing more than to bask in it.

And she knew, somehow, as she smiled back at Tzuyu, that she was safe with her. Tzuyu would not kill her, would not hurt her. Chaeyoung knew this like she knew water was wet, and yet she couldn’t fully explain  _ why _ .

It didn’t make sense, really. She hadn’t seen Tzuyu since the beginning of the Games, and now she was here happily admitting to murdering her fellow tributes. And yet being around her, being around both of them, felt so easy. So natural. It was like they’d been friends all their life, like some part of Chaeyoung’s soul knew them before they’d even met. Which was ridiculous. But it was the only way she could think to describe why she felt so secure around Tzuyu.

It wasn’t fear. That much she knew for sure now. She trusted Tzuyu, like she trusted Dahyun. Tzuyu had killed the careers, had fought for her life more than once, and yet she looked so content wading in the water with Dahyun, like her fight was already over. 

Tzuyu loved them. Inexplicably so.

And that was probably it. The reason why Dahyun didn’t tell her about this thing between her and Chaeyoung. The reason why Chaeyoung was also keeping quiet. Because she felt something for Tzuyu, some form of love. And she didn’t want to hurt her either.

Which was a problem, considering the nature of the Games. But there were still plenty of tributes left before she needed to think too seriously about that. 

They filled their water canisters up to the brim, and then debated whether or not to stay near the pond or find somewhere less exposed to hide. With the careers no longer a threat, Tzuyu and Chaeyoung were the strongest tributes left in the Games. Of course, they were both injured, and there was a chance some other tribute had been downplaying their strength, but Tzuyu seemed confident in their chances. Dahyun, as always, was more wary.

It came down to Chaeyoung. As soon as they realized that she essentially had the deciding vote, she took one look at Tzuyu’s hopeful face and caved.

“Let’s make camp under the trees nearby.”

Tzuyu’s smile was worth Dahyun’s sigh, especially since Dahyun noticed it and smirked. Chaeyoung blushed, ignoring Dahyun’s suggestive, wiggling eyebrows. She’d missed Tzuyu, alright? It was so easy to make her smile, and so rewarding to see how she shone with happiness. 

They fell back into a natural rhythm, just like the nights on the roof. Talking about everything and anything. Chaeyoung told Tzuyu about the beautiful flowers she and Dahyun had seen, and Tzuyu told them about the cave she’d found, and how she’d given the dead tribute a funeral. They were in the middle of a game of saying things they’d never done and seeing if the others could relate, when someone came racing out of the trees on the other side of the pond.

“Don’t shoot,” Dahyun said, and Chaeyoung startled when she noticed Tzuyu had already notched an arrow. “We met him earlier today. He’s harmless.”

Felix screeched to a halt once he noticed them, and Chaeyoung was struck by how different he looked. He had cuts running up and down his face, wild eyes darting left and right, and his uniform was streaked with mud.

“Hey, it’s ok.” Dahyun raised her hands. “It’s just us.”

Tzuyu still hadn’t put the arrow down. Chaeyoung didn’t blame her.

Felix realised who was in front of him, and his face crumpled.

“Of course,” he sobbed. “Of course it’s you.”

Something was very clearly wrong. Chaeyoung shared a look with Dahyun, who grimaced in response.

“What happened Felix?”

Felix walked over towards them, and he looked so tired, so defeated, that Tzuyu put down her bow. He slumped down onto the ground in front of them, and stared up with hollow eyes at Tzuyu.

“Minho is dead.”

Chaeyoung glanced over at Tzuyu. Her face was cold and calm, a far cry from the happiness and liveliness she’d seen just moments ago. 

“What happened,” Dahyun asked again.

“The girl from District 2, Momo. She found us.” Felix was still staring at Tzuyu. “She knew he was your District partner, so she tortured him, and killed him, and made me watch. She said it was because of what you did. What did you do?”

“I killed the other careers,” Tzuyu said quietly.

“I thought it was something like that.” Felix let out a shaky sigh. “She told me it was for Mina and Sana. Neither of us understood, but she didn’t care.”

Tzuyu gave a small nod. She didn’t seem upset by that, but maybe Chaeyoung just couldn’t see it.

“Well at least I know it’s only her. Not that it would do me much good anyway.”

“What do you mean,” Chaeyoung asked.

Felix stood up, and dusted himself off. He was shaking now, Chaeyoung noticed. Shaking and trembling. The cuts on his face were fresh and oozing.

“She’s put a bounty on your head.” He nodded at Tzuyu. “Every tribute she runs into, she’s not going to kill them. She’s just going to hurt them, over and over again, and then let them go. And she’ll do it as many times as she needs to until one of them brings her your head.”

“Why would they hunt Tzuyu down?” Dahyun frowned, puzzled. “If she’s not killing them while Tzuyu is still alive then isn’t that a good thing?”

“You don’t understand.” Felix laughed, and Chaeyoung’s hand wrapped around her mace. 

It was an unhinged laugh, of a broken man. A laugh like that did not belong to a boy so young, and Chaeyoung’s heart cracked a little when she heard it.

“Whoever brings her your head, she promises to spare their life. They get to live, until the Games kills either her or them. But until you die, we all get tortured. Over and over again until we can’t take it anymore.”

“Do you really think she’ll keep that promise?” Dahyun said, soft and deliberate.

“It doesn’t matter.” Felix shook his head, wiping tears from the corner of his eyes. “Killing you is the only way to end this nightmare. Minho and I were the first, but we won’t be the last. Soon every tribute left will be trying to take you down. Because otherwise, she’s just going to keep this going forever. She has the sponsors and the skills to survive as long as it takes. The rest of us either die trying to kill you or die waiting for her to end this.”

“You can hide.” Dahyun was still soft, trying so hard to be persuasive, and Chaeyoung didn’t fully understand why, but she kept her grip on her mace anyways. “You can run away from her and hide and live until the Gamemakers do something to kill her. No one has to die.”

“And if she finds me? If she cuts into me like she did Minho?” Felix shook his head again. “I can’t risk that. I can’t go through it again. I can’t- I can’t-”

“Hey, hey.” Dahyun shushed him. “It’s ok.”

Felix froze, staring at Dahyun instead of Tzuyu. His eyes were wide, and manic, and Chaeyoung had no idea what he was thinking.

“You’re right,” he whispered at last. “It will all be ok.”

Everything happened so quickly after that.

Felix pulled out a knife and lunged for Tzuyu. Chaeyoung sprung up and tried to push him away, but the knife still stabbed into Tzuyu’s stomach before she reached him. Chaeyoung managed to shove him to the floor, but he slashed upwards, cutting a big gash through her hand.

Her other hand held the mace, and acting on instinct, she smashed it down into his head.

Felix’s body jerked, and then he stilled.

Chaeyoung stood there, panting. She kept her grip on the mace, but didn’t dare move it. If she moved it, this was real. If she moved it, Tzuyu had just been stabbed. If she moved it, she had just bludgeoned a twelve year old boy to death.

A cannon shot sounded. Chaeyoung jerked up, pulling the mace with her. There was blood on it, dark blood, more brown than red. And flecks of grey too, a lighter grey than the dark colour of the mace.

This was real. All of it had just happened.

She had killed someone.

Chaeyoung fell to her knees, and threw up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: Dahyun hears boss music


	9. Chapter 9

**Then**

The portrait of Hirai Hana hung regally above the fireplace in Momo’s home. Her chin was held upright, hair cut short, eyes proud. She wasn’t smiling, but her lips were curved slightly, giving off an air of confidence. Even through the sleeves of her shirt, her muscles were easily defined. Although she was thin and wiry, her stance and the look in her eyes all screamed of someone who wouldn’t go down easily.

_ Everything a Victor should be.  _ Her father had said, back then.

“It’s a shame about Hana.” Her mother sighed, now. “She got so close. That District 1 girl didn’t deserve to win.”

Momo stood next to the door and said nothing. Children were to be seen and not heard. Soldiers even more so.

Her father didn’t say anything either. He rarely showed emotion. Momo wasn’t sure if that was because of his Peacekeeper training, or if he was just like that.

Her father trained her and Hana to be Peacekeepers too. The implication was always there, that if they weren’t good enough to become careers, this is what they would do when they grew up. Either kill children in the Games, or kill specific targets for the rest of your life.

Momo didn’t want to be a Peacekeeper. She wanted to be a chef.

Her happiest childhood memories were before she started training, when she spent her days helping her mother with the bakery. She’d always get nervous seeing Hana come in crying and covered in bruises, but the only thing she could do was steal her sister a bun or two and eat them together later. Her mother always chased her around the kitchen with the wooden spoon, but it was worth it to see Hana smile.

When Momo started training, she got covered in the same bruises. But she didn’t cry, and that made her father’s eyes gleam with pride.

“I worry about Momo.” Her mother said now. “She’s our last chance at this, and I can’t bear to lose another child.”

“Momo won’t lose.” Her father wrapped an arm around her mother’s shoulders. “Hana was too soft. She hesitated at the end and it cost her. She wasn’t cut out to be a career, but Momo is. She’s a better fighter than Hana ever was.”

_ Then why did you make her volunteer?  _ Momo wanted to scream.  _ Why did you tell her she was good enough, tell her that she had to win, and send her off to her Games if you really thought that she wouldn’t make it home? _

She didn’t say any of it, of course. Just stood there and let them comfort each other, talking about her as if she was already gone off to the Capitol.

Maybe her father meant what he was saying. Maybe he really had thought that Hana would make it back then, and he’d simply underestimated the competition. And Momo was the better fighter. She never lost a practice match against the other kids, not since she was fourteen. Everyone expected her to volunteer. Maybe her parents really believed that they weren’t sending their last remaining child to her death.

Or maybe they were just so desperate for that Victor wealth and glory that they didn’t care.

Their reasoning didn’t really matter in the end. The teachers expected Momo to volunteer too, as did every one of her classmates and neighbours. If she didn’t volunteer she knew her parents would probably kick her out, to avoid associating themselves with a shameful coward. And then where would she go? She’d be a pariah. Her friends wouldn’t want to be around her anymore, and no one would hire someone so ungrateful and disobedient to the Capitol to work for them. Her sister would protect her, if she was here, but Hana had died trying to get home, and it was only Momo left now.

So the next day, when a name that wasn’t hers was drawn at the Reaping, she steeled her face into a cocky smirk and forced her voice to sound loud and clear. Unafraid.

“I volunteer.”

**Now**

The sunlight bathed the trees in a peaceful morning glow. Momo knelt by the river, cleaning her knives and her axes. She’d found two tributes last night, but neither of them knew the whereabouts of Tzuyu.

She wondered how furious her parents were with her right now. That she let those tributes go, that she didn’t finish them when she had the chance.

It didn’t matter. She’d signed up for enough tesserae that her parents could live happy cushy lives. They didn’t need this glory. Mina and Sana on the other hand, they deserved justice, and Momo was the only one who could deliver it.

She knew going into the Games that she would end up a monster. She just thought she would be forced into it. But now with the blood of so many scared children on her hands, she had no one to blame but herself. Even if she hadn’t killed all of them, she’d hurt them badly.

Their screams still haunted her. She had a feeling that if she could go back to before the Games, she’d be horrified by what she had become.

Hirai Momo, the big scary career tribute. It still sounded ridiculous.

If only the other tributes knew that there was a monster just as evil roaming the Games. A monster they wouldn’t see coming. They would be so busy running from Momo that they wouldn’t even notice the arrow until it killed them. A secret predator, one that could be roaming around the woods unchallenged right now, if not for Momo.

Chou Tzuyu’s mistake had been to kill two good people, and leave the other monster alive. And now Momo wouldn’t stop until her throat was bleeding, just like she’d done to Mina.

If there was some kind afterlife for the wicked, an eternal hell for those who deserved it, then Momo refused to go unless she dragged Tzuyu right down with her.

* * *

Dahyun found them a cave to sleep for the night. Tzuyu wanted to protest when they propped her against the wall and fussed over her, but she was too weak to argue. Still, they shouldn’t be protecting her and coddling her like this. It was her job to look out for them.

Realistically, they should have left her to die. Dahyun shouldn’t be focusing her already limited medical talents on Tzuyu. She should be taking care of Chaeyoung’s hand. Chaeyoung was more likely to survive the night, and her romance with Dahyun got them both more sponsors. Or at least it was meant to, Tzuyu hadn’t actually seen them be romantic with each other since they met up. But either way, why were they bothering with Tzuyu at all?

She knew why. They loved her. Maybe not the way she loved them, but who could tell? Certainly not her. All she knew is that she was too selfish and greedy to reject them. Too weak.

A gift basket came floating down, right before dusk. It contained a silver canister, and a note from Nayeon, which all three of them read.

_ This will keep you alive through the night. I wish I could give you more, but just hang tight. You’ll see why in the morning. _

So they were restricting sponsor gifts now. Not good. Still, the ointment in the canister turned out to be a real blessing. As well as preventing Tzuyu from bleeding out, it numbed the pain somewhat.

She still insisted that Dahyun treat Chaeyoung with it first.

Lying against the cave wall, she didn’t see the broadcast that night of all the dead tributes. Chaeyoung did, and she quietly informed them that the careers, Minho, and Felix were the only deaths today. Momo was still alive.

Momo and three other tributes. That was all that stood between Tzuyu and victory. Kill them, and Chaeyoung and Dahyun could win.

Except only one of them could.

It would be fine. As soon as her wounds healed she would clear the path for them and then let them decide who was going home. She was still fairly certain that Dahyun would choose Chaeyoung, same as Tzuyu. But she wouldn’t fault Dahyun if she chose herself either.

Her musing was cut short by a loud trumpet sound blaring the Capitol anthem, shortly followed by Park Jinyoung’s voice.

“ _ Ladies and Gentlemen, three hours from now we have a very special feast planned for our remaining tributes! Each of you has done well to survive this far, but you’re all desperately in need of one particular item. All of these items will be available to take at the Cornucopia. May the odds be ever in your favour!” _

Tzuyu closed her eyes and sighed.

So that was it then. The reason why Nayeon couldn’t give them better medicine. The Capitol needed the three of them motivated so that they wouldn’t miss out on the feast. But they had miscalculated. Chaeyoung’s wound wasn’t that serious. She could last a few days before the infection possibly killed her. All Tzuyu had to do was go to the feast and kill as many tributes as she could, most importantly Momo. Best case scenario, she succeeded and got the medicine to heal herself, or she killed every other tribute before dying, leaving Dahyun and Chaeyoung the only survivors. Worst case scenario, she died early on.

But better to die fighting then lie in a cave and wait helplessly for death to come.

She pushed herself up, ignoring how her stomach screamed with pain. She could walk, she could. The pain was nothing, the bile in her mouth was trifling. She could do this.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Two pairs of hands eased her back down against the wall. Tzuyu stared up at confusion at the matching concern she could see in Dahyun and Chaeyoung’s eyes.

“I need the medicine to live,” she said, just in case they didn’t understand that.

“And how do you plan to get it without dying?” Chaeyoung snapped.

Tzuyu shrugged.“Luck?”

Chaeyoung looked very tempted to roll her eyes. Tzuyu understood that, but she really didn’t see what choice she had.

“If I don’t go I die anyway,” she said. “So you two stay here, stay safe, and if I don’t come back well… I’ll do my best to take as many of them down with me as I can.”

“You can barely walk,” Dahyun said softly. “Going there, especially by yourself, it would be suicide. You can’t expect us to just let you walk into that.”

Tzuyu stared at her. Had Dahyun hit her head? Of course that’s what they should let her do. Dahyun should be focused on her own survival, and the survival of Chaeyoung. Tzuyu didn’t matter, not now that she couldn’t offer them protection.

She knew Dahyun cared for her. However she’d also made it explicitly clear to Dahyun that she was willing to die for them, and had no intention of winning these Games. So given her usual practical nature, Dahyun’s resistance to Tzuyu’s swan song idea was more than a little confusing.

“I’ll go,” Chaeyoung said firmly. “You stay here, keep Tzuyu hidden. I’ll go and get the medicine.”

“No,” Tzuyu said.

“Not a chance,” Dahyun echoed.

Tzuyu smiled. At least she and Dahyun still agreed on this much.

“Momo will be there,” Chaeyoung argued. “I’m the only one with a chance against her. It has to be me.”

“I’ve seen you fight. You’re incredible,” Dahyun agreed calmly. “But you always fought with your right hand, and now I doubt it can hold anything. Can you fight as well with your left?”

“I killed Felix with it, didn’t I?”

“You did.” Dahyun ignored Chaeyoung’s cold tone. “But judging by your defensiveness I’m guessing you know that when up against Momo, you’re not a match with your good hand unavailable. Which is why I’m going.”

“You?” Chaeyoung stared at her, eyes almost popping out of her head. “Why you? You won’t last a second in a fight against Momo!”

“No, but someone needs to get the medicine so that Tzuyu can live and your hand can heal before it gets badly infected. So our choices are the girl with a massive stomach injury, the girl with her fighting hand in shreds, or the girl who can sneak in and sneak out without getting detected.”

“It’s an open field,” Tzuyu pointed out. “How can you sneak with no coverage?”

“I’ll figure something out.”

“What if we both go,” Chaeyoung tried.

“More chance of being caught, more chance of one of us dying. Besides, someone has to stay and look after Tzuyu.”

“No!” Tzuyu couldn’t resist pushing herself up for that. “No you can’t… you can’t do this! You can’t risk your life for me!”

Dahyun and Chaeyoung exchanged a look, and Tzuyu wanted to cry because she didn’t  _ understand.  _ They wanted to win, didn’t they? Why didn’t they just let her die?

“Can I have a moment alone with Tzuyu,” Dahyun asked quietly.

Chaeyoung nodded, although there was still fire in her eyes. Tzuyu watched her as she left the cave, worried that she’d just run away. But then Dahyun crouched down in front of her, and she forced her eyes away from Chaeyoung’s back.

“Hey,” Dahyun said softly. “We both know who you want to win. And we both know that you’re in no shape to get that medicine. If I don’t go, Chaeyoung will. If I do go, you get to stay here and protect her.”

Damn it. What Dahyun said made sense. She was in better shape than Tzuyu, and this way Tzuyu could make sure Chaeyoung didn’t die while Dahyun was away. Logically, it worked.

But Tzuyu didn’t want Dahyun to go. She didn’t want Dahyun to risk herself like that. It was stupid, because she knew Dahyun and Chaeyoung couldn’t both win, and yet the thought of Dahyun dying…

“Why?” She couldn’t stop her voice from cracking, or the tear that slipped out. “Why are you risking your life for me? One way or another, I’m going to die. Why can’t you and Chaeyoung see that? What’s the point?”

Dahyun smiled, and then she leant down and kissed Tzuyu’s forehead.

“You matter to us, silly,” she whispered. “And you know by now that love doesn’t always make sense. There’s a chance to save you, so I’m taking it. Whatever happens later, I’ll deal with when the time comes.”

Oh. Tzuyu was crying hard now. Dahyun’s smile grew sadder, and she gently brushed the tears off Tzuyu’s cheeks before standing up and walking towards the cave entrance.

“Chaeyoung,” she called. “Let’s talk.”

For three terrifying seconds, Tzuyu thought she was right. That Chaeyoung had run off to get the medicine while Dahyun was distracted. But then she heard her voice, and she slumped over in relief.

“It has to be me.” she heard Dahyun say. “Someone needs to protect Tzuyu and you’re much better than me at that. Taking the medicine doesn’t require fighting.”

“Neither does hiding Tzuyu.”

“If something goes wrong, if I get discovered, I’ll run. We both know I have a better chance than you.”

“No we-Ow!”

Tzuyu glanced up, alarmed. But Chaeyoung was just standing there, clutching her hand.

“What was that for?”

“Proving a point. All I had to do was poke it. Momo can do a lot worse. Not to mention the medicine you’re both currently on? One of the side effects is that it makes you drowsy. Picked that useful fact up at the med station. That’s two good reasons why you should be the one to stay, and I know you’re smart enough to see that.”

“Dahyun you can’t-”

“Stay here. Protect Tzuyu. I promise I’ll be back.”

There was silence. Tzuyu squinted out, but all she could see was Chaeyoung’s silhouette. She wondered what Chaeyoung was thinking right now. Out of the three of them, it felt to Tzuyu like she was the most capable of letting go. If it came down to it, she could see Chaeyoung killing her and Dahyun. 

At the start of the Games, she could picture Dahyun doing the same. Now, she wasn’t so sure.

“You promise?” Chaeyoung was so quiet Tzuyu barely heard her.

“I promise.” Dahyun said.

Then Dahyun stepped into view, and suddenly they were kissing. 

Ah. So they had been keeping up the romance after all. That was good.

Tzuyu watched them, and wondered why her stomach felt funny, watching them kiss. Maybe it was just a side effect of the medicine.

Kissing was good for sponsors. It might help make up for the ones that probably jumped off when Dahyun decided to risk her life for Tzuyu. And Tzuyu wasn’t jealous. She wanted them to be together, she’d pushed for it. Besides, she loved them both, so who would she even be jealous of? 

She thought of Dahyun kissing her forehead only moments ago. That had been nice. Would she have liked it if Dahyun kissed her on the lips instead?

No. Because Dahyun needed to sell her relationship with Chaeyoung.

But if that relationship wasn’t there, would Tzuyu have liked it? If that relationship wasn’t there, if Tzuyu was free to love them, which one would she want to love?

It didn’t matter. She couldn’t have them.

And yet, watching them kiss, Dahyun’s hand cupping Chaeyoung’s face, Chaeyoung nuzzling Dahyun’s nose as soon as they broke away, she realised the answer. She’d known since before the Games began that she loved them, so really, this next realisation was a much easier step.

Both. She wanted both of them to kiss her like that.

It felt nice, to acknowledge that in her mind. She knew it would never happen, it couldn’t as long as the Capitol was still watching them, sending gifts to keep Dahyun and Chaeyoung and their love alive. But still, the clarity of it all was appreciated.

Dahyun began to walk away, and Tzuyu closed her eyes as Chaeyoung collapsed to the ground.

They were sacrificing so much for her. The least she could do was let Chaeyoung cry in peace.

* * *

**Then**

She didn’t like her partner. Or her mentors. They all looked at her and saw someone she didn’t want to be. The cruel ally who would help them hunt down other tributes, or a possible candidate to join them as a Victor. None of them felt safe to be around.

Momo kept her smirk on, kept her chin up, and only let herself cry when she was alone in her room that night. A knock on her door interrupted her sobbing, and she hurriedly splashed her face with cold water before answering it.

She expected it to be her mentor, or her partner. But instead, a girl she’d only seen on a screen grinned cheerfully back at her.

Minatozaki Sana. District 4. The mentors had told her that District 4 were most likely their allies this year, but Momo had no idea they were going to be introduced so early.

“Hi.” Sana beamed up at her. “Do you mind if I hide in here? Your escort is right around the corner and I don’t think we’re meant to travel between carriages.”

Oh. Maybe they weren’t supposed to be introduced this early. Momo was still so surprised that she wasn’t sure what to do, but the girl seemed polite and friendly, so she stepped back and let her in.

“Thanks!” Sana smiled once the door was shut. “My mentors don’t know I’m gone and they don’t seem like the type to be happy about that, so I’m really hoping I don’t get caught.”

A million questions swarmed through Momo’s head. Why Sana chose to do this was the most prominent one, but instead she asked something a little simpler.

“How did you get here?”

“I climbed!” Sana grinned. “Out the window and across the roof until I got to the platform between my carriage and the District 3 one. I think it’s just the three of us on this train. Most Districts don’t travel together, you know? Separate trains since they’re travelling different routes. Oh! I also saw the District 3 girl as I went through. She’s really pretty don’t you think?”

“I… yeah I guess so.” Truthfully Momo hadn’t paid much attention to any tributes her mentor didn’t point out to her. “Weren’t you worried about falling?”

“A little. But I’m strong!” To prove her point Sana flexed her arm, and Momo was very glad the lack of light in the room hid her blush. “And I really couldn’t stand the way everyone was looking at me. I think my partner and mentors and escort, they all assume I’m dumb. And I don’t want to be friends with people who can’t see the advantage in being nice to others.”

This girl was… strange. Momo didn’t understand her at all, but she wasn’t like anyone else Momo had met so far on the train, and that was a good thing.

“We are going to have to kill each other.” Momo pointed out, curious how the girl would respond.

To her surprise, the girl’s smile grew sad.

“I know.” she said. “But what’s the harm in getting along until that happens?”

A lot of harm, as it turns out. But back then Momo didn’t know that. It was why she let Sana stay in her carriage until the sun was almost risen, talking about their homes and their families and their dreams and their favourite foods and colours, and the other tributes of course.

“I feel sorry for the District 3 girl.” Sana pouted at one point. “I think her mentor is even younger than we are. I don’t know how they’re going to manage.”

_ Why do you care?  _ Momo wanted to ask, but instead she simply shrugged and nodded.

The answer, as she soon found out, was that Sana had a stubbornly kind heart. 

And by the end of the night, Momo was more than a little in love with her.

**Now**

She knew they were out there, watching her. Two tributes, cowering just beyond the treeline. She was fairly certain she’d tortured one of them yesterday. A girl, from District 10 or 11, she wasn’t sure. She didn’t remember much, just the screams and the feel of her knife digging into flesh. 

Momo had spent around ten minutes cutting her up, before delivering a clear and straightforward message. 

“Find Chou Tzuyu and kill her, or next time I see you this will happen again. Bring me her head, or any proof that you killed her, and I won’t touch you for the rest of the Games.”

Judging from how neither tribute dared approach her, Momo was fairly certain they didn’t have Tzuyu’s head. They had probably come here hoping to get their packages before Momo arrived, and now they were hoping to wait her out.

They would lose. Momo could sit at the Cornucopia for hours, holding every package hostage. She needed to be at the heart of the fighting, and the Feast was meant to deliver action. Maybe all the remaining tributes would team up to try and overpower her. Maybe they’d just stay skulking around the edges of the forest until they gave up and slunk away.

Either way, all Momo needed to do right now was sit here and wait. Wait, and not think about how tired she felt, how her lungs felt heavy with every breath.

Just a little longer. Just until Tzuyu was dead. Then she would either win, or greet death with the relief of knowing that Mina and Sana had been avenged.

At this point, she didn’t really have a preference.

* * *

It took Dahyun longer than she would have liked to find the Cornucopia. She’d gotten lost or confused an embarrassingly large amount of times for someone who prided themselves on their situational awareness. But in fairness, it had been a long time since the beginning of the Games, and she’d had to run in blind fear more than once. Even the best tracker would be a little disoriented after that.

Once she found her way to the woods surrounding the Cornucopia, she made sure that each footstep was silent. She’d found the line where the grass and woodland became ice, and had stuck close to that in hopes of meeting less people. Momo was probably lurking somewhere around here, and the other tributes might be as well. Slowly and carefully, she inched her way closer to where the trees ended in grass instead of ice, and the Cornucopia was visible in the centre of the grass. There was a nice wide oak tree up ahead, right next to the clearing. She hid behind it, and looked out to where the packages were.

She could see them clearly, sitting neatly next to each other on separate podiums. Each bag was dark blue in colour, with the district number written in bright white. 1, 5, 8, 9, 11 and 12. 1 and 8 were smaller than the rest, and 12 was the smallest of them all.

Dahyun was suddenly struck with a terrifying thought. What if her package didn’t contain medicine? Was she allowed to take the packages for 1 and 8? Or would it kill her instantly if she tried?

Her worry was soon overshadowed by an even bigger fear, as a familiar shape walked into her line of sight. Momo, swinging the District 2 bag and an axe idly back and forth in either hand. She paced a semicircle around the podiums, never stepping onto the ice, but pausing now and then to stare out into the woods. Dahyun was grateful that Momo was looking the other way, because her knees were shaking so much she felt like it was moving the entire tree.

Alright, so Momo was here. Now Dahyun needed to figure out how to get Momo away from here, preferably without confronting her at all. Simple. It was like a riddle. Dahyun liked riddles.

She liked them better when they didn’t carry the pressure of being split in two by an axe if she chose wrong, but she tried her best not to worry about that. She’d made up her mind to come here, to risk her life for Tzuyu and Chaeyoung. If she turned back now because she was too afraid, she wouldn’t be able to look them in the eye again. Even if she won, and outlasted everyone else, it would be as a sickening coward.

This was her choice. So now she just needed to stop shaking, breathe, and figure it out.

Movement from the other side of the clearing caught her attention. She squinted, grateful for once that she was farsighted instead of the opposite. Two heads of hair were faintly visible peeking out of the opposite treeline. Dahyun didn’t recognise them, which was probably a good thing. She couldn’t have them teaming up with Momo to take her out, so she’d have to get them away. Maybe use them to draw Momo away from the bags? 

Slowly and surely, a plan began to form in Dahyun’s mind.

* * *

Chaeyoung was really starting to hate this plan. 

She hated that Dahyun had convinced her to stay behind. Tzuyu was weak, and practically half dead, leaning against the wall of the cave. But she was safe in hiding here. In the hours since Dahyun had left, not a single soul had come by to find them.

This left Chaeyoung feeling incredibly antsy. One…  _ friend  _ at the brink of death was bad enough, and now she’d just let another walk into almost certain death and for what? So she could sit here twiddling her thumbs?

She didn’t want to be here. And when Chaeyoung didn’t want to do something, she rarely bowed her head and went along with it.

But at the same time, she couldn’t leave Tzuyu here. It would be like tempting fate, setting things up for her to die while Chaeyoung raced to save Dahyun. Sure, no one had passed by their little hiding spot for hours, but that wouldn’t stop the Gamemakers from sending rabid mutations Tzuyu’s way the second Chaeyoung left her. Even if the universe wasn’t in the mood for some ironic tragedy, those assholes certainly were.

So step one was to hide Tzuyu better. And seeing as Tzuyu was white as a sheet, and could barely stand without fainting, Chaeyoung couldn’t exactly pull her around searching for the perfect hiding spot. Her best option was to take Tzuyu deeper into the cave system. 

She walked over and squatted down next to Tzuyu, feeling her heart clench as Tzuyu’s eyes fluttered open and she gave Chaeyoung a warm smile.

Chaeyoung still didn’t understand what she’d done to deserve such warmth. She didn’t understand why Tzuyu looked at her like she hung the stars in the sky when all she’d done was be a tentative ally and then a friend to the younger girl. But for whatever reason, Tzuyu trusted her with an odd type of innocence, and it made Chaeyoung want to do right by her, to keep her alive.

Yes, it was a dangerous urge to have. But she could indulge for now.

“We need to go further back into the caves.” she said. “It’s too easy for people to find us here. If I lift you up, do you think you can walk?”

Tzuyu nodded, immediately trying to push herself to her feet. Chaeyoung quickly slipped under her, throwing Tzuyu’s arm over her shoulders.

“We can take it slowly. Just breathe, yeah?”

Tzuyu nodded again, but the sharp breath she took after one step did little to ease Chaeyoung’s concern. She did her best not to jolt Tzuyu as they slowly walked further back away from the light. 

“Hang on, I’ll make us a torch.”

Tzuyu leant against the cave wall, breathing heavily, as Chaeyoung went searching for a stick.

“Felix…”

Chaeyoung stiffened, feeling the blood suddenly rush to her ears.

“What?”

“Dahyun went through his supplies.” Tzuyu croaked. “He had an electrical torch.”

Oh. That was good. Chaeyoung should go and get that.

Tzuyu watched her for a moment as she stood there, before hesitantly speaking up.

“I think she left it over with the food supplies.” Another pause, while Chaeyoung still struggled to move. “...I can go get it for you if you want?”

“No!” That was enough to snap Chaeyoung out of it. “No you can barely walk. Just stay there. I’ll get it.”

It was actually easier than she expected. Her hands didn’t shake, she didn’t remember the blood or the way his body jerked. It was just a torch. 

This was fine. Aside from the current situation and how Dahyun could be dead and how Tzuyu was probably going to die and how Chaeyoung had killed-

This was fine.

She slipped back under Tzuyu’s arm, hoisting her up and clicking the flashlight on. The cave sloped downwards, growing slightly narrower as it went. Chaeyoung was careful to watch her step. The last thing Tzuyu needed was a sudden fall. 

For a few minutes there was only the crunching sound of damp pebbles under their feet as they slowly made their way further into the cave. Chaeyoung hadn’t realised just how deep and long this tunnel actually was. They’d always stayed close to the entrance, never going farther than the artificial sunlight could reach. Now, she was starting to wonder why the hell there was such a huge underground cavern in the Games. What form of entertainment could it offer people to watch tributes flail around in the dark?

“Let’s stop here.” She said, when her uneasiness finally got the best of her. “I don’t think anyone will come looking this deep.”

Tzuyu collapsed against the wall as soon as Chaeyoung stopped walking, breathing heavily as she slowly slid down to the floor. Chaeyoung cursed, hands uselessly fluttering around Tzuyu’s torso, where the worst of the damage was. She could feel a wetness as she gently ran her finger over the bandages, but they didn’t have any fresh ones left to change it with.

“I’m fine.” Tzuyu rasped. “Go save Dahyun. Protect each other and win.”

There were a million things Chaeyoung wanted to say, mostly about how eager Tzuyu seemed to be for her to leave. For some reason, what came out was:

“We can’t both win.” 

“No.” Tzuyu agreed calmly. “But you can be the last two standing. You can have a little more time together.”

“And what, you just bleed to death in this cave?” Chaeyoung scoffed. “Why are you so focused on me and Dahyun? Don’t you want to win?”

In the darkness, with the flashlight focused on her torso,it was hard to see Tzuyu’s face. But Chaeyoung still caught a hint of a smile.

“I’m dying Chaeyoung. Why shouldn’t I want you two to be happy?”

“You’re not dying. We’ll get the medicine in time. But that’s not what I meant. Even before this, you wanted us to win. You were one of the strongest tributes but ever since the Games started you’ve done nothing but risk your life recklessly. It’s like you’re trying to kill yourself so you won’t have to kill us.”

“Chaeyoung.” Tzuyu’s voice was so gentle, so calm, it made Chaeyoung’s skin crawl. “I was never going to kill you. I think… no I  _ know,  _ that if I tried to hurt you, it would break me.”

“So then how were you planning on winning?” Chaeyoung refused to calm down, refused to let Tzuyu’s calmness infect her, making her pretend like this conversation wasn’t about death. “If it came down to the three of us?”

Tzuyu let the silence drag on, either unwilling or unable to voice the undeniable truth no matter how angrily Chaeyoung glared down at her. Chaeyoung knew what that silence implied, but she wanted Tzuyu to say it. She wanted to understand why the hell this girl was willing to throw her life away for her and Dahyun. Two people she hadn’t known existed a month ago. No matter how Chaeyoung looked at it, it didn’t make  _ sense _ .

Tzuyu was too good at holding her silence. Chaeyoung broke first.

“Why?” She sat down on the ground, shining the torch so that both of them were faintly illuminated. “Why do you want to die? Why don’t you want to win?”

“We all die eventually.” Tzuyu was still so terrifyingly calm. “I just want my death to mean something, that’s all. I want it to be worthwhile.”

“You know what would be worthwhile?” A hysterical laugh almost choked it’s way past Chaeyoung’s lips. “Living! Making it out of here and getting to enjoy the rest of your life.”

“What life?” For the first time in this conversation, Tzuyu’s voice had a hint of bite. “Living in a house by myself in a District with people who don’t care for me, who wish the other tribute had made it home instead? Watching other kids die every year, unable to help them? Do any of the Victors look happy to you? The only thing that makes the aftermath of the Games worth it is returning home to your family. And I don’t have that, but you do. It’s that simple.”

“No it’s  _ not. _ ” Chaeyoung cried. “Your life isn’t worth less than mine just because I have a family!”

“Isn’t it? Doesn’t having more people who love you and cherish you in your life make you more important to this world than me?”

“So Dahyun doesn’t matter either? By your logic, I shouldn’t go help her get the medicine, right? And yet here you are, trying to get me to leave you and walk into danger. For  _ her _ ! How do you reason that one out in your mind? Probably the same way you made peace with killing those other tributes I guess.”

It was a low blow, and barely even tied into her original point. But Chaeyoung was angry and horrified, and she wasn’t holding back. She just wanted to see Tzuyu crack, see something other than those calm eyes and stoic expression, resigned to a death that Chaeyoung refused to consider an inevitability.

“Who knows? Maybe I’m just too weak.” Tzuyu was back to sounding disturbingly soft, a small smile playing on the edges of her lips. “Either way, it doesn’t matter. The fact is that you and Dahyun are both people that can leave this arena and live with what you’ve done. You can survive what comes next. And you can make something of your life. My happy ending is knowing that I helped you do that, that I loved you and kept you alive, and that love is something you can carry with you. I’ll live on with you, and that’s good enough for me.”

“Yeah well, that’s not good enough for me.”

“Why not? You need me dead to win, and you want to win. Don’t you?”

Yes Chaeyoung did, but not like this. And she was just about to say as much when a hissing sound made both of them turn to run. In the dark of the cave blue bulbous eyes, eight on each head, stared down at them.

Shit.

“Icetooth Spiders.” Chaeyoung hissed. “I should have known they’d put something nasty in these caves for us.”

She scrambled up, tugging Tzuyu up with her. Tzuyu yelped in pain and Chaeyoung winced, but there was no time to apologize. She threw Tzuyu’s arm around her shoulders, grabbed her mace with her free hand, and then they were running. Chaeyoung’s heart pounded in her chest in tandem with her footsteps. She could hear the skittering of spider legs as they chased after them, could practically feel their ice cold breath as the spiders tried to bite them. One sting was enough to paralyse, Chaeyoung remembered that much from watching previous Games. After that, they used their pincers to open your body up and fed on you while you were still alive, picking and chewing at your organs until your body gave out.

Chaeyoung wasn’t going to let that happen. Not to her or to Tzuyu.

They were almost at the top of the slope, the light from the cave faintly visible. Icetooth Spiders couldn’t go out into the light, it burnt their skin. If they could reach the front of the cave, they would survive.

Tzuyu collapsed, her feet giving out. Chaeyoung heard a hissing sound and let Tzuyu drop, turning around and swinging her mace. She’d left the flashlight down in the depths, but she felt the crunching sound of steel hitting bone, and watched as one set of eyes went crashing into the wall and flickered shut.

But there were still at least three more spiders crawling up towards them. Chaeyoung knew she couldn’t take them all. Trying to fight would simply be suicide.

“Go.” Tzuyu said, coughing wetly. “Get out of here. Leave me.”

Chaeyoung was frozen, watching them crawl closer.

“Go!” Tzuyu screamed, her composure finally cracking. “Run! You can’t win if you die here with me! You have to run now!”

Chaeyoung wanted to run. More than anything. But she also didn’t want to leave Tzuyu behind.

It made sense to leave her. Tzuyu couldn’t walk, let alone run. Tzuyu wanted to die so that Chaeyoung could win. This way, Chaeyoung didn’t have to kill her. She tried her best to save her but the spiders were just too overwhelming to fight. Not her fault.

Yet for some reason, Chaeyoung couldn’t stop thinking of Felix. Of the way the veins in her arm felt like they’d been injected with ice the second she’d hit him with her mace. The Games had already made her a killer, and now they were trying to make her a coward.

Chaeyoung wanted to go home to see her parents. She wanted to look her family in the eye with her head held high, and tell them that she had survived, just like she promised.

But she wanted to win on her terms.

Chaeyoung crouched down, and scooped Tzuyu up into her arms.

“What are you doing?” Tzuyu cried, tears running down her cheeks.

Chaeyoung didn’t bother answering. She just took off running. She could hear the spiders hissing, pincers clacking as they hungered for their meal. But she forced herself to sprint towards the light, forced her body to ignore the weight in her arms, to run like she was still just carrying her mace and not another human being. 

Tzuyu seemed to accept that this was happening, because she clung on tightly to Chaeyoung's shirt as they ran, and didn't yell at Chaeyoung to put her down. The light was only a few meters away, and Chaeyoung didn't stop running, even when she felt something sting her leg. She just hugged Tzuyu closer to her chest and continued carrying her bridal style right up to the threshold of the light. 

Then her legs gave out, and she and Tzuyu tumbled down onto hard stone. Despite how she was bleeding from at least five reopened wounds and clearly struggling to breathe, Tzuyu didn't skip a beat before dragging Chaeyoung fully into the light, right as another spider tried to bite her leg. 

For a moment they just lay there, revelling in the ability to breathe, to be alive. Chaeyoung could feel her left leg growing numb, but she felt strangely calm about it. Their venom paralysed, but it didn’t kill. She would survive this. Only one bite meant that it would last a few hours at most.

“Why did you do that?” She was surprised Tzuyu had the capacity to yell, considering what bad shape she was in. “Why would you save me? You should have just left me to die!”

Once again, Chaeyoung found herself with a million responses. She wanted to point out how hypocritical it was for Tzuyu to sacrifice herself and not expect the same in return. Love was a two way street, it should be obvious why Chaeyoung didn’t abandon her. She wanted to say that just because Tzuyu cared about them didn’t mean she could control how they acted. She wanted to point out that despite all Tzuyu’s attempts to make herself less important to Chaeyoung than Dahyun was, Chaeyoung still valued her the same. It didn’t work like Tzuyu wanted, because if it did Tzuyu wouldn’t love them in the first place.

But with the venom creeping through her body, she didn’t have time to say everything she wanted to.

So instead she crawled over so that she was face to face with Tzuyu, and then she kissed her.

Tzuyu froze, but Chaeyoung didn’t worry about it. Dahyun had frozen too, at first. Chaeyoung hadn’t regretted that kiss, and she knew she wasn’t going to regret this one either. Even though their chins bumped together a little and she was slightly askew, kissing the left side of Tzuyu’s lips harder than the right, Chaeyoung didn’t mind. Sure it wasn’t her best work, the combination of exhaustion and poison in her system making her sloppier than she would have liked, but it still got the point across.

When the paralysis took full effect, it left Chaeyoung with a smile frozen onto her face. 

* * *

Every one of Dahyun’s instincts was telling her to run far, far away.

This was not what she did. Chaeyoung and Tzuyu were the fighters in their group. Dahyun was the one who found ways to minimize conflict, who ran and hid, and who stitched them up after their battles. But now she was the only one left who could fight, and while direct confrontation was still a bad idea that she hoped to avoid, she was going to have to take more risks than she was comfortable with.

And if this didn’t work, and Momo caught her, she would have to hope that her ability to dodge and to take a punch would be enough to help her survive. Because she certainly didn’t know how to throw a punch back. Broken glass and bruises from knocking against sharp tables? Dahyun knew how to treat those, and how to walk around like your ribs weren’t aching. But trying to fight back had only ever gotten her slapped harder, so she’d learnt early on not to attack, just deflect and run. If it came down to a fight, she’d be aiming to escape, not to win.

But that was if everything went wrong. With a little luck, she wouldn’t have to fight anyone.

She had two weapons; a knife and a broken arrow she’d snagged from Tzuyu’s quiver. It had broken near the metal tip, snapped in two with most of the wood still intact. She’d taken it with the thought of maybe repairing it if they found time, but now it was going to serve a different purpose. 

Ahead of her, around ten meters away, were two tributes. Dahyun had carefully circled the glade with the Cornucopia, never getting close enough to risk Momo detecting her. It had taken a while, but now here she was, right behind the two she’d seen earlier. They were still staring out at the clearing, waiting for Momo to leave so they could grab their bags. But they looked tired, or bored. They definitely weren’t as guarded as they should be, considering the circumstances.

Dahyun slipped the tip of the broken arrow into her pocket with one hand, and with the other she reached behind her to gently prod at a small cut in her uniform. She couldn’t remember exactly how she’d gotten the scrape, probably from the birds with their damn razor beaks. Either way, her jacket was ripped right next to her left shoulder. An ideal spot.

This next part was going to hurt.

Dahyun gritted her teeth, and then she reached behind and pressed the wooden end of the arrow into the cut. It stung, and her eyes watered, and as she pushed it deeper in the sting turned into an ache. But when she let go the arrow stayed in. 

She took off running.

She crashed through the trees, making ten times as much noise as she normally would. Both tributes instantly turned around to look at her, and Dahyun didn’t even have to fake the fear in her eyes.

“Chou Tzuyu!” She bent over, pretending to be winded and giving them both a good look at the arrow in her back. “She’s here and she’s crossing everyone off. Run for it!”

She took off, running parallel to the clearing. One of the tributes ran after her but quickly headed deeper into the woods. But the boy, Dahyun was fairly certain he was from District 5, ran right out towards Momo.

“She’s here! I found her!”

Dahyun tugged the arrow out and kept running, retracing her own path so that she was right next to the clearing, but as far away from where the boy had emerged as she could get. From this distance she couldn’t hear what he and Momo were saying, but after a moment Momo raced off into the trees, dragging the boy with her, and Dahyun knew she’d taken the bait.

She felt a sliver of guilt for the poor boy. Tzuyu was nowhere near them, and when Momo realised that it wouldn’t end well for him. But Dahyun couldn’t afford to worry about him. She had to get the package now, before Momo got back.

Dahyun steadied her feet, took a deep breath, and then she sprinted out into the field.

It was terrifying. The openness, the bright sunlight reflecting off the metal of the Cornucopia, it made Dahyun’s skin crawl from how exposed she was. But she kept her eyes focused on the package with 12 written on it, and within eight seconds she had snatched it off the podium. 

It was light. Too light.

Her body kept moving even as her brain registered this, racing back towards the treeline. Only when she was safe with five different trees between her and the open grass, did she crouch down and peer into the bag.

There was no medicine. Instead there were two rings. Dahyun recognised the styling, she’d seen it on people around her all her life. The richest people in District 12 had rare ones with diamonds in them, but it was the two bands of woven metal that clued Dahyun in to what they really were. She’d seen these rings on even the poorest of miners, made out of scrap metal if nothing else would do. They were rings you gave your lover when things got serious, to indicate that they were the one for you. 

Dahyun didn’t understand. Why was this something she needed? She was in the middle of the Hunger Games, not looking to settle down and start a life with someone.

Maybe it was just a cruel joke, the Gamemakers laughing at her for thinking she could save Tzuyu, reminding her that if she was to win she would have to do it alone.

Well fuck them. There were two bags left and one of them had to contain medicine. 

Dahyun glanced back at the clearing. The bags were still there, and there was no sign of Momo.

For a second, she hesitated.

She’d done her part. She’d gotten her bag, tried her best. If she left now it wouldn’t be cowardly of her. There was still a very good chance that trying to take another tribute’s bag would kill her. Logically, she could leave now, and not blame herself for what would happen. Tzuyu would die, and Chaeyoung probably would too, but it wouldn’t be Dahyun’s fault. And she would have tried her best to save them.

But they would still be dead. And she didn’t want that, no matter what the rational side of her tried to argue. Yes, they had to die for her to win. But she didn’t  _ want  _ them to die. So she would save them. And then figure the rest out later.

Sighing, Dahyun crept back towards the edge of the clearing. Broken branches littered the ground around her, likely from a scrap at the very start of the game. She picked one up, the longest one she could see.

Still no sign of Momo.

This was still a horrible idea. But if she didn’t do it now fear would take over, and she’d lose her nerve. So Dahyun ran back out before she could talk herself out of it, adrenaline pumping through every vein as she sprinted over to the bag labeled ‘8’.

A cannon shot rang out, and instinct was the only thing that made Dahyun duck down. An axe flew over her head, burying itself in the grass behind her, and Momo came striding out of the woods.

Dahyun took a second to realise that the boy from 5 was most likely dead. She should probably feel guilty about that, but every nerve in her body was too busy being utterly terrified to care. She scrambled up, racing back for the trees, but another axe came slicing down in front of her. She skidded to a halt in order to avoid being chopped in two, crashing down into the dirt.

“Of course it’s you.” Momo sounded colder than Dahyun remembered, almost lifeless. “I’m guessing tricking the boy into thinking Tzuyu was here was your idea? Smart diversion.”

“Thanks.” Dahyun scrambled to her feet.

She didn’t run, eyeing Momo warily. The first axe was already back in her hands, which didn’t make sense since she barely moved. Momo saw the confused look on Dahyun’s face and reached out a hand. Dahyun narrowed in on the black circle around her wrist, just as she flicked it and it began to hum. A whooshing sound from behind her made Dahyun dive back onto the ground, and the axe that had previously been lying stationary in the dirt went flying over her, scraping the back of her uniform slightly as it spun towards Momo’s hand.

Momo caught it, and gave it a twirl. Still with the same dead eyed expression.

“Controlled magnetic axes.” She twirled them both. “A gift from the Gamemakers. I’d ask what they got you but no one is allowed to get their gift until they bring me Chou Tzu-”

Dahyun gulped as Momo’s eyes narrowed, looking at the empty District 12 podium.

“Oh, so you already stole yours while I was distracted? Then why come back? Seems unnecessarily risky”

Well obviously Dahyun wasn’t going to tell her about Tzuyu. So she went for the option that was less likely to make Momo see red.

“Chaeyoung is hurt.” She said, throwing the words out quickly in order to keep Momo from speculating too much. “I need medicine to save her. I thought it would be in my bag but it wasn’t, so…”

“So you came back.” Momo murmured softly. “Because you love her? You’d risk me catching you, all for her.”

“Yeah.” Dahyun gave a tiny shrug, unsure of what else to say. “That about sums it up.”

“I understand.” Momo’s eyes flickered from their dead expression, and she stared at Dahyun sadly. “I loved people too. And Tzuyu killed them. Which is why I can’t let you give her that medicine.”

Dahyun could feel her heart pounding in her chest, but she kept her face as neutral as possible.

“It’s for Chaeyoung.”

“You were running for the District 8 bag. You may be smart but you can’t trick me when I saw exactly what you were going for.”

Well. This was pretty much the worst case scenario that could have possibly happened.

“Please.” Dahyun begged. “Please they’re going to die if I don’t get them the medicine. You want to fight Tzuyu right? If I don’t heal her you won’t get the chance to fight her.”

“But she’ll still be dead.” Momo took a step forward, and Dahyun mimicked her with a step back. “That’s good enough for me.”

Fuck.

Dahyun dove to the side as Momo threw her axe. She quickly got back on her feet, prepared for another throw. Momo just stood there, watching her. She wasn’t worried about losing in the slightest, Dahyun realised. This was just her toying with her prey.

“I’m unarmed.” Dahyun tried. “Are you really going to fight me without it being fair?”

“Fair?” Momo’s laugh sent chills down Dahyun’s spine. “I’m just playing by the current rulebook. You know, the one where it’s fine to slit the throat of an innocent as they sleep, just to get two others to fight their allies over it? Tzuyu didn’t give a damn about playing fair with the people I love, so I’m not really in the mood to be the bigger person here.”

Dahyun knew that appealing to Momo’s honour was a long shot. But as long as Momo was talking she wasn’t throwing axes, and that gave Dahyun time to look around. Every second was valuable, it meant that she was still alive, and that she still had a chance to come up with a plan.

Momo drew her arm back, and Dahyun dodged, feeling the second axe graze against her leg as she narrowly avoided it. Two seconds later both axes were back in Momo’s hands.

If this kept up, Dahyun would die. Momo could just stand there throwing axes until Dahyun got too tired. She could try to run, it would be safer in the trees. But Momo seemed to expect that, as all her throws kept Dahyun dancing a careful circle, never able to escape too far. She needed something to throw Momo off her rhythm. Something that could give her the chance to run.

But there was nothing. All she had was a knife and a bag with two rings in it. She could throw it in Momo’s face and bolt, but she doubted that would distract her for long enough.

Momo threw her axes, one after the other. This time, one of them brushed Dahyun’s hair as it flew past.

She could see Momo’s surprise that her throws weren’t hitting Dahyun. After all, she was a trained Career, and Dahyun was just a girl from District 12. Dahyun was grateful for that, the tiny advantage of Momo underestimating her was most likely keeping her alive and allowing her to stall by dodging.

She still needed a plan, some way to shift the odds in her direction, or even just give her a fighting chance. The podiums? If she could get Momo close to them, maybe cause her to accidentally knock a bag off… It might do something.

But Momo was standing between her and the podiums, and there was no way she was just going to let Dahyun run past her. Her options right now were the trees to the left and behind her, all a far enough distance away that Momo had plenty of time to stick an axe in her back while she ran. The only other option was the ice to her right.

This was not an enjoyable riddle. Not in the slightest.

She needed to get rid of Momo’s wrist magnets. If Momo couldn’t get her axes back, Dahyun could escape. But there was no way Momo would just let her get close enough to rip them off or break them. She would have to take her by surprise, get her off balance somehow. 

In the five seconds it took Dahyun to race through these possible options, Momo seemed to grow bored of using her for target practice. She threw her first axe, and Dahyun dove to the side again. But as she rolled back onto her feet Momo strode towards her.

Instinctively, Dahyun began backpedaling towards the ice. 

Momo followed her, mirroring her calmly right until Dahyun stopped at the edge. Then Momo strode closer, and swiped her axe down. Dahyun dodged to the side, feeling the wind whoosh as the axe cut down where her head had been a second earlier. Momo didn’t let the axe hit the ground, twisting it’s momentum so it was now coming at Dahyun from the side. With no way to duck she jumped upwards and backwards, and then she saw her opportunity.

Momo’s hand was extended, finishing the strike that had been intended to cleave Dahyun in two. But now she was open, and standing next to the ice, and Dahyun had a split second where she could act.

She charged forward with all the momentum she could build, and then jumped feet first towards Momo, kicking her right in the stomach. Momo stumbled backwards from the force, and landed on her ass on the ice side of the field. She tried to get back on her feet, but slipped. 

If Dahyun had been less ruled by fear, maybe she would have tried to break Momo's wrist magnets as she slipped on the ice. But right now, seeing Momo struggling, Dahyun just wanted to use that chance and run. She tried to crawl away, to scramble to her feet and bolt while Momo was slightly unbalanced. But a strong hand wrapped around her ankle, and began dragging her backwards. Dahyun screamed, terror flooding her entire brain as she kicked at Momo’s hand with all the strength she had. But Momo was stronger, and she dragged Dahyun kicking and flailing and screaming at the top of her lungs until she was almost pinned down under the older girl. Momo knelt on top of her, one leg on either side, and Dahyun froze as she raised the axe above her head with one hand.

Dahyun couldn’t panic anymore. She had to time this right, or she would die.

Momo brought the axe down, and Dahyun waited until it was too late to change the arc of the swing, and then she pushed her head, neck, and as much of her body as she could to the right. The axe crunched down into the ice, cutting through Dahyun’s hair as it went. She gritted her teeth, feeling the cold metal resting so close to her cheek. A second slower, and she would have died.

She wouldn’t get another chance to dodge. She had to kill Momo now, or it would all be over.

Momo grabbed Dahyun’s neck with one hand, keeping her steady while using the other hand to tug the axe out of the ice. But Dahyun could still speak, and still move her arms. Her left hand wrapped around Momo’s wrist, tugging at her arm so that Dahyun had room to speak. Her other hand went to her own pocket, fingers wrapping around the small knife she had yet to reveal.

“Tzuyu told me about Mina.” she whispered, and Momo froze.

The axe raised in the air, the hand still wrapped around Dahyun’s neck but no longer squeezing. For one beautiful second Momo hesitated.

“She said that she cried as she died.” Dahyun went on. “She couldn’t scream, Tzuyu made sure of that. But she kept looking over at you and Sana, crying and begging in her mind for you to save her. She loved you both so much. She trusted you to keep her safe. Even when her throat was already slit, she thought you could somehow save her if you would just wake up and see what was happening.”

Momo’s face crumpled, and Dahyun struck.

* * *

**Then**

“Are you sure this is allowed?” Mina’s eyes were wide and nervous. “Sleeping in another tribute’s bedroom?”

“They’re sending us all off to die in two days.” Momo flopped down onto her bed, smiling as Sana immediately snuggled against her side. “I think they owe us this much.”

Sana reached up to kiss Momo’s lips, and Momo leant down, returning the kiss easily. It was funny how quickly she’d become used to this. But then she glanced up, noticing Mina hovering nervously at the edge of the bed, and she realised that not everyone felt as comfortable as she did right now.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” Momo said gently. “I mean. I want to. Because I might not live and get to go home and do it normally. But if you don’t want to, that’s fine.”

“I want to do it too.” Sana chimed in. “But at the same time, I don’t think it’s a now or never thing for me. I just want to be close to you two. If all you want to do is cuddle tonight then that’s fine by me.”

“I…” Mina shuffled nervously, and Sana sat up, extending a hand and guiding her to sit down on the bed. “I like kissing you. I like what we have. I just don’t know if I’m ready for the next step. I never thought it would be something I’d do in this situation.”

“Then we don’t have to.” Momo said, and Sana nodded in agreement. “We can just sit, and cuddle. And kiss a little. Like Sana said, as long as it’s with you that’s all that matters.”

That seemed enough to make Mina relax, and she gave Momo that small shy smile that made Momo’s heart clench. It was different from Sana’s warm laugh, but Momo treasured it just as much. She’d spent one day after the alliance was formed pretending that everything about Mina didn’t tug on her heartstrings, and then she had given up and followed Sana’s lead, letting herself be endeared and enamoured by everything Mina did and every one of her mannerisms. And now here she was, miles from home and somehow feeling more comfortable and safe than she had in years.

She never thought she could love anyone in the Games. Now she had two, and she hadn’t even set foot in the arena yet.

“Momo?” Mina’s soft voice jolted her out of her musings. “I think… If you and Sana want to do it. I’d be fine just watching. And kissing.”

Momo glanced at Sana. Sana raised an eyebrow, her eyes dancing. 

Momo smiled, and looked back at Mina.

“If things get uncomfortable tell us, ok?”

Mina nodded, and then shrieked as Sana dove at her, peppering her face with kisses. Momo rolled her eyes and tugged Sana off, kissing her hard to distract her. The warmth of Mina’s laughter matched the warmth she felt as Sana pulled Momo’s nightshirt off her shoulders, running her hands along her bare skin.

What happened after that was a blur, but a happy one. Later on, when she looked back to try and remember better days, certain moments stuck out in her mind: Mina’s hand in hers as Sana kissed a line down Momo’s stomach. Mina’s mouth on Sana’s as Momo pressed her thigh between Sana’s legs. Gasps and cries and brief moments where Momo hesitated, wondering if it was the good kind of cry. And then Sana would roll her eyes fondly and chide Momo for stopping, and Mina would burst out into quiet little giggles again. The look on Sana’s face when Momo worked out how to best use her fingers, and the wonder in Mina’s eyes when Momo finally finished.

As they lay there in the aftermath, a tangle of limbs, two naked, one still in her shirt and underwear, Momo wondered if she’d ever been this content before in her life.

“I never really had friends. Back home.” She broke the peaceful silence, causing two sets of eyes to stare at her curiously. “I know this isn’t the perfect place. But I think being with you two… I feel happy. Really happy. I’m grateful I met you, even if we didn’t all want to be here.”

Mina caught her eyes first, and Momo was relieved to see an understanding there. Mina hadn’t volunteered, and Momo hadn’t wanted to volunteer. But here they were, and Momo could see her own peaceful bliss mirrored in Mina’s calm expression. No matter what happened, whoever won and whoever died, they would always have this one moment. This one night where they could just exist as themselves, and it was enough.

“I had friends back home.” Sana spoke up. “But I never did  _ this  _ with them. If this is how you think most friendships work Momo, I’ve got some news for you.”

Both Mina and Sana burst into laughter at that, and Momo couldn’t stop her own grin even as she scoffed and pushed at Sana’s shoulder.

“Shut up. That’s not what I meant.”

“Mhm.” Sana smirked at her. “Poor little Momoring. We’ll have to keep her safe, won’t we Mina? She doesn’t seem to know much about the world.”

“Oh please.” Momo rolled her eyes, still unable to wipe the smirk off her face. “If anyone’s going to be the protector in the arena, it’s me. You two just hang back and work on your circuits and your fishing. I’ll handle the rest.”

**Now**

There was a horrible pain in her chest. At first Momo thought it was just from the memory, but then she looked down, and she realised there was a knife sticking out of her.

Oh.

The knife was attached to a hand, and that hand pushed it in deeper. Momo leaned backwards to lessen the pain, not that it would save her. The wound was too deep. As Dahyun scrambled out from underneath her, Momo coughed, spattering the ice beneath her with blood. The burn in her lungs made reality finally sink in.

It was over.

She had lost.

* * *

Dahyun was crying. She didn’t understand why.

Well actually, she did. She’d just killed someone.

“I’m sorry.” she sobbed out. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologising?” Momo grinned, her face growing greyer by the second. “It was a good hit. I’m the one who forced you to fight.”

“I know.” Dahyun gulped, tears still streaming down her face. “I didn’t want to kill you. I didn’t want to fight.”

“I didn’t want to die.” Momo tried to shrug it off as a joke, but her face crumpled, bottom lip wobbling. “I really don’t want to die.”

Dahyun should go now. She should get the bags for 1 and 8, and she should go.

But Momo was dying, and she was crying. And Dahyun was the one who killed her.

Dahyun sat down on the grass. Not close enough for Momo to grab her again, but close enough to talk.

“It’s not fair.” Momo sighed, wincing at the pain that simple action caused her. “I couldn’t protect them, and I couldn’t avenge them. I hurt so many people, and it was all for nothing. Tzuyu killed them, and she gets to live.”

“If it’s any consolation, Tzuyu isn’t planning on surviving these games. She wants Chaeyoung to win.”

“Really?” Momo stared at Dahyun. “And you came out here to save her anyway?”

“I know.” Dahyun gave a small laugh, still crying. “Doesn’t really make sense does it?”

“It does.” Momo smiled. “You love her. Despite all the alarm bells warning you what a bad idea it is. Makes sense to me.”

Dahyun didn’t know how to respond to that. She picked a blade of grass, and realised that her hands were still shaking.

“I loved them so much.” Momo whispered. “And I knew that the second they died, I’d never see them again.”

“You don’t know that.” Dahyun wondered why she was trying to comfort her. “Maybe there’s an afterlife. No one knows for sure.”

“Maybe there is.” Momo smiled sadly. “But I’m not going to wherever they are. They’re good people, and I’m a monster.”

The smile wilted off Momo’s face again. Dahyun was struck by how small she seemed. Small and human, no longer a terrifying force that Dahyun had to fight with everything she had to survive.

Just a girl. A girl scared of dying, just like Dahyun.

“I didn’t want to be a monster.” Momo was crying again. “I knew that the others expected me to kill, and that if I didn’t do it Sana would have to. I didn’t want that, so I told her to stay behind with Mina while I went hunting with the boys.”

Dahyun didn’t want to hear this. She didn’t want to hear how the careers operated, all the horrible things they’d done.

Momo’s face was white, almost drained of blood. She wouldn’t last much longer.

Dahyun stayed where she was, listening quietly.

“I thought I could get away with just killing people who were trying to kill others. Remember at the bloodbath, when I killed the tribute who was trying to strangle you? I thought that would be enough, but they were too suspicious of me and Sana. I could tell, especially after I hid you and Chaeyoung. We found this girl, sitting next to a fire she’d made. And she screamed and tried to run and all the boys looked at me. And I knew what I had to do, or they would kill me and go after Sana and Mina next.”

Dahyun picked another blade of grass, watching as the tears slowly stilled on Momo’s cheeks. 

“I’m going to hell.” Momo admitted dully. “And it’s going to be so lonely without them.”

“You don’t know that for sure.”

“Everything I did after they died?” Momo shook her head. “There’s no going back from that. I deserve it, and that’s fine. But if I had to be a monster… I just wish I could have avenged them. I knew I was always going to be a failure to my parents and my district. But they loved me, loved  _ me,  _ not some fantasy they wanted me to be. And I wish… I wish I could have been worthy of their love.”

Momo coughed up another round of blood. Instinctevely, Dahyun moved closer. Reaching out a hand to grab Momo’s. Momo squeezed her hand, looking up at her with glassy eyes.

“My parents are going to be so disappointed in me.” Momo whimpered. “I wish I could have been the Victor they wanted.”

“Your parents aren’t going to be disappointed.” Dahyun said, firmly. “They love you. They know this isn’t your fault. If anything, they should be proud.”

She wondered if Momo could sense how hollow her words were. After all, what did she know about parental love? She was just one unloved child trying to convince another that their reality wasn’t completely awful.

Momo seemed to appreciate the effort. She gave Dahyun a small smile.

“I wish the other kids knew.” she sighed. “The whole district is so convinced that there’s some glory in this, that they’re doing their kids a favour by pushing them to volunteer. But it’s not worth it. It’s not. Everyone who survives knows that, I can tell.”

“I think so too.” Momo’s grip on her hand was weakening, so Dahyun held it tighter. “There’s no real winner here, is there? We’re all victims.”

Treasonous talk. She half expected the Gamemakers to strike her with lightning for saying that. But nothing happened, except that Momo gasped. Her eyes were wide, staring ahead of her at something Dahyun couldn’t see.

“They’re here.” Momo whispered. “I can see them. They’re waiting for me.”

Fresh tears welled up in Momo’s eyes, and her smile was different this time. Less sad, more peaceful. Dahyun didn’t understand what was happening, but she kept holding Momo’s hand. Her pulse was so slow it was almost nonexistent.

“Sana. Mina.” Momo croaked, blood spilling from her lips even as she smiled joyfully. “I can see them. They’re calling me. I’m not going to be alone.”

Dahyun looked down, and wondered what Momo was seeing. A glimpse of the afterlife, or a hallucination? The truth, or some small comfort before the end?

Either way, Momo died with a smile on her face. And maybe that was enough.

Dahyun sniffled, leaning down to press a kiss to Momo’s hand. She wished she could make sense of everything she was feeling right now, sort it into useful emotions and things to bury. But Momo had tried to kill her, Momo had made Dahyun feel more terrified than she ever had before. Momo had cried and bled out holding Dahyun’s hand, talking to Dahyun like she was a friend.

Dahyun didn’t understand. But she stayed sitting there, holding Momo’s cold hand even after the cannon shot had rang out.

Afterwards, when she had hooked the bags for Chaeyoung and Tzuyu off their podiums, without blowing herself up in the process, she watched from the treeline as the plane came down to lift Momo’s body up. 

She pressed three fingers against her lips, and raised them in the air.

* * *

When Jihyo woke up, there was a dull thumping sound against her window.

Impulsively, she reached out for Nayeon. But that side of her bed was cold. The only comfort she had was a knife under her pillow.

She got up, tiptoeing over to her window. The thumping sound continued, like something was gently banging against it.

Jihyo threw open the curtains, and hissed out a curse. There was a body hanging in front of her window. A girl.

This was a rare nightmare, but one Jihyo had experienced before. She waited as the body slowly began to turn around. Usually she found Nayeon bleeding out in the bathroom, not hanging from a noose. Her nightmares preferred the realism of it.

The wind twirled the body to face her, and Mina’s lifeless corpse looked down at her. Her mouth was open, as if she was trying to say something, but the rope digging into her neck was red with blood.

Jihyo woke up screaming.

Ordinarily, this would be the part where Nayeon would wake up next to her, and pull Jihyo into a hug, running a hand through her hair until Jihyo calmed down. But Nayeon wasn’t here, and so Jihyo lay back down, cursing quietly as she tried to shake the horrible fear that nightmare had left her with.

She hadn’t spoken to Nayeon since Mina’s death, and Jihyo felt her absence in the silence around her. All she wanted was to feel Nayeon’s arms holding her, to feel safe for one second. But here she was, alone, denying herself the one good thing about coming to the Capitol.

She knew Nayeon hadn’t meant to be hurtful. She was just more fire than human, focused on her dreams of freedom more than the world around her. And that’s what Jihyo loved about her, really.

She remembered watching Nayeon’s Hunger Games, right when the hopelessness of Victor life was starting to seep into her bones. Her tribute died, she couldn’t save her. Couldn’t save herself either. No one could beat the Capitol or it’s system, they all just had to suffer through it.

And then Yoo Jeongyeon made herself known.

Jeongyeon was a tribute no one paid too much attention to at first. She scored averagely and her interview was cold and stilted. She didn’t want to be here and made the bare minimum effort to show otherwise. Jihyo foolishly wrote her off the second she saw her. 

But then the Games began, and Jeongyeon refused to play by the rules. She saved the life of a District 1 career tribute, who her own teammates had left to die. And in the process, she’d earned Nayeon’s complete loyalty.

Everything shifted after that.

Jeongyeon made no effort to hide how much she thought the whole thing was bullshit. She called the Capitol a leech, claimed that they had nothing but fake power brought on by fear, and said that the Games were a barbaric ritual with no honour or glory. The mentors, the viewers, the entire world watched horrified, waiting for the Gamemakers to strike her down.

And they certainly tried. But Jeongyeon refused to get brought down easily. She avoided their most obvious traps, and the unavoidable ones, Nayeon got her out of. After all, Nayeon had trained for the Games her whole life. The stunts she performed would have been the standout in any other Games, if Jeongyeon wasn’t already there stealing the show.

Not that Nayeon minded. In fact it was blatantly clear to everyone watching that she had no intention of winning the Games. Jeongyeon’s words moved not only the districts, but her fellow tributes as well. Nayeon was a martyr in the making, and Jeongyeon a revolutionary figurehead.

Jihyo should have known the Capitol would never let it end that way.

It all came down to a single snake bite. Jeongyeon wanted to win, and Nayeon wanted to lose, but Jeongyeon was the one dying, and she wasn’t selfish enough to let Nayeon kill herself. Nayeon wanted to, Jihyo watched in bated breath as she pleaded with Jeongyeon. But Jeongyeon, always putting uncomfortable truths into strong, harsh words, had convinced her not to.

And that was it. The spark of revolution, the spark of change, of  _ something,  _ had been stamped out. 

Or so Jihyo thought. Then she actually met Nayeon, and realised that the girl had no intention of becoming another traumatised, helpless Victor. The spark Jeongyeon had given her, Nayeon cultivated into a raging fire. She was fueled by bitterness, by grief, by anger at the system and the world around them, and to Jihyo she was the most beautiful thing to grace the Capitol in all her time here.

Jihyo fell for her, fast and hard. She was drawn to her, enchanted by Nayeon’s passion, how it kept her from turning cold.

It took only a few days for them to kiss, and by the time a week had passed it had become a regular thing. The intimacy took longer. Passion was easy for Nayeon. Vulnerability less so. But Jihyo understood that, and didn’t hold it against her. Over time, Nayeon seemed to realise that Jihyo was not someone who would run away, when she woke up to Nayeon crying that it should have been her that died.

Jihyo never agreed with her, never told her that she had been rooting for Jeongyeon too. But she didn’t tell Nayeon that she shouldn’t say things like that either. She let Nayeon have her grief, and just kept her warm on nights when Nayeon’s fire was too tired and worn to blaze.

But now here she was. Alone. Because she’d gotten too used to Nayeon putting her first, rescheduling clients and leaving important secret meetings because she wanted to hug Jihyo for the five minutes of free time they had. She’d forgotten that she was in love with the ghost of Yoo Jeongyeon, and then reality had come to smack any trace of giddy romance right out of her hands.

She loved Nayeon. For everything she was and everything she wasn’t. It had hurt to see her ignore Jihyo’s grief. But Nayeon had clearly regretted being so callous. Jihyo didn’t want Nayeon to change, she just… she wanted Nayeon here with her.

So what was stopping her? Their time together was already too short. With only five tributes left the Games would probably be over soon, and then she wouldn’t get to see Nayeon for a whole year unless Chaeyoung was the Victor. If she and Nayeon were normal lovers, she could let her hurt feelings linger for a week or so, until she was ready to accept Nayeon’s apology. But they didn’t have the luxury of time, and so Jihyo made her choice. She wanted Nayeon here, and that meant going to her and telling her she forgave her.

The hallways were dark and cold at night, but the route from her bedroom to Nayeon’s was one she could walk blindfolded. As the elevator brought her down to the District 1 quarters, she wondered what state she would find Nayeon in. Would she be up, planning and scheming for the next step in overthrowing the government? Would she be focused on Chaeyoung, on trying to keep her alive? Or was she lying in bed, missing Jihyo like Jihyo missed her?

The answer, it turned out, was none of these. Because when Jihyo stepped out it was to the sight of three faceless guards beating Nayeon bloody in the hallway.

“Hey!” Jihyo yelled. “Hey, get off her!” 

She tugged one of them away, and for a second she thought he was going to hit her. But the three of them looked at each other, and with some unspoken signal turned and walked away. For a second Jihyo was tempted to go after them, to try and make them pay, but Nayeon had a black eye and was curled in on herself and Jihyo couldn’t patch her up if the guards beat her too.

“Come on.” She said, crouching down and gently helping Nayeon to her feet. “Medical supplies are where they were last year, right?”

Nayeon nodded, and let Jihyo lead her into the bathroom without a word. But once they were alone, her whole demeanor changed. Even as Jihyo peeled her dirty jacket off, there was a look of manic glee in her eyes, and she grinned at Jihyo through bloody teeth.

“District 2 is rebelling.” she said. “Not all of them, obviously. The patriotism runs deep there. But the younger ones, our generation, they’re pissed. Everyone heard what Momo and Dahyun said, and now the kids are scared and the parents are either scared for them or pushing them away. The Capitol is trying to keep it under wraps, but I know for sure my sources were right.”

Jihyo blinked. Nayeon’s torso was covered in purple bruises, her nose looked like it was broken, and she could barely see out of one eye. Yet she was looking at Jihyo like she’d just cracked the secret of the universe.

“What?” Jihyo said. “Is that why they did this to you?”

“District 2!” Nayeon jumped up, winced, and sat back down. “The District most loyal to the Capitol, and thanks to those two kids they’re divided. Of course the Capitol did this to me, they’re running scared right now!”

Jihyo didn’t know how to react. She stuck a cloth into cold water, and gently brought it to Nayeon’s animated face. Nayeon winced again, but didn’t let it slow her down

“If District 2 is angry, imagine how all the others feel. Especially the ones that knew all along that the Games were a death sentence, but didn’t think they could fight it. 8, 12, 11. They’re the most exploited and the most volatile. If word spreads, this could be the start of something huge.”

Jihyo looked at her. The girl that she loved. 18 years old and ready to die for the greater good, uncaring of the bruises she had or any pain that was inflicted on her, as long as the right people paid for it. The simple truth hit Jihyo then, and it felt like a blow to her chest. 

Nayeon was either going to burn the Capitol to the ground, or burn herself to ashes trying.

In a way, Jihyo had known it all along. But knowing and seeing were two very different things. As she washed the blood off Nayeon’s face, listening to her excited talk of revolution and riots, secure in her belief that she’d debugged the bathroom and could talk freely, Jihyo knew that one way or another, this love of theirs would end in tragedy. There would be no happy ending, no sitting together on a porch, growing old, drinking tea together. Nayeon came out of the arena dead, and now she was determined to go out in a blaze of glory. 

All Jihyo could do was take comfort in the warmth while it lasted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: The Games come to an end.


End file.
